


Jason's Favorite Vacation Spot: Death

by 316_frogs



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Decisions, Basically Jason dies again and comes back again and it keeps happening, Gen, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd-centric, Lazarus Pit, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Resurrected Jason Todd, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/316_frogs/pseuds/316_frogs
Summary: The first time was a fluke. The second time, okay, there were extenuating circumstances. However, a third time? This was getting suspicious.---Jason keeps dying. He becomes more acquainted with the other side. Nobody really knows what's going on.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Jason Todd
Comments: 324
Kudos: 1406





	1. Deaths 1, 2, and 3

The first time was a fluke. The second time, okay, there were extenuating circumstances. However, a third time? This was getting suspicious. 

Jason had died three times now. He and Death were quickly becoming besties. But for whatever reason, he never stayed dead. Not once. He’d write it off as an effect of the Lazarus Pit but according to Talia, he’d revived himself before that mess. Even what effect the Pit did have on his body, it wouldn’t cover revivals. It made a 2 week recovery be a 1 week recovery at best.

The first time he’d been killed, it was simple. He died of natural causes, or rather violent manslaughter, and came back mysteriously six months later. His body was still as damaged as it was when it died, brain included. The Pit restored his body from the permanent damage with whatever magic chemicals were in there. Nobody thought about it, sometimes the universe glitches. It happens. And it wasn’t like he was the only one to ever come back from the Underworld. 

The second time, no one really noticed. There was a lot going on at the time, whole invasion alien thing and all that. Even Jason and few other morally grey characters had decided to chip in. He’d gotten separated from the main fighting force and was surrounded. The aliens specialized in draining life force and apparently Jason had been running much lower than the other fighters, even though he was fine physically. In an attack where Batman would have been a bit weakened, it put Jason in critical condition. From there, death was just a skip away. 

He was more aware in death this time. The first time it had been a vague calm pleasant feeling floating in the dark. The second time he had thoughts. It was still dark, but he was aware he was dead. Everything still floaty and good but he was awake. 

He came to a few days after Superman forced the alien hive mind leader to return the stolen life force. It was just like getting up after a good night’s sleep, though this time he was getting up from the forest floor. He’d had to brush the pine straw and leaves off himself. Thankfully, the critters of the land hadn’t gotten to decomposing him completely just yet. His skin still burned from the worms though. A few birds had pecked at him, but it healed fine with help from the Pit. 

Jason wasn’t working with a team at the time. The Outcasts were taking a break and he wasn’t on the best terms with the Bats. So, no one had come to check up on him. Which makes sense, Jason wasn’t hurt about it but still, his corpse had just been lying in the woods and no one noticed. It was a hard pill to swallow. At least he didn’t have anyone to tell he’d died again.

So, okay. He’d died twice. First time? Reality glitch. Second time? Alien life sucking force returned. It was mostly explainable. Not a big deal. Jason wasn’t bothered. Then it happened a third time. A third fucking time. And in his own home too. 

The Red Hood had just gotten off of a particularly bad patrol. Arkham had an outbreak the night before, so while the Bats went crazy busy, Crime Alley saw the opportunity and took it. He had to stop 3 different store robberies, 7 muggings, 2 minor villains, 4 drug deals, 3 sexual assaults, and 4 attempted murders.

The sun was beginning to rise and Jason was dog fucking tired. He’d finally gotten back to his apartment when his pipes burst. No way, he was calling some plumber for this just to jack up the price. But he also didn’t have the supplies needed on hand. So he went to the corner store in his civvies. It was almost 5AM and crime really should have died down by then. Of course, he was always strapped but that doesn’t always help. 

Like he said, he was tired. The night was long and hard and full of little aches and pains. Jason felt like maybe he deserved a little bit of respite if he was going to do home renovations before bed. No opiates or anything but Advil would be nice. It’d help with the swelling too. So he grabbed some off the shelf with his pipe supplies and went on his merry way. 

The pipes would actually be an easy fix, now that he looked at it again. Jason popped in a few Advil to quell his aching shoulder and got to work. Somewhere between 6 and 7 he fell asleep in the bath. Somewhere between 8 and 9 he died. 

Jason could tell when he died because it was always the same floaty feeling. But it wasn’t floaty like you’re on drugs or under sedation, more like you’re a bubble in the wind looking down on the world. Something other. It wasn’t dark this time though, not completely at least. This time, there was another presence with him, staring back. It was made of not light, but glowing almost. There wasn’t a truly good way to describe it. No words were spoken because as soon as Jason opened his mouth to, he awoke. 

He regained awareness at around 10PM with a terrible crick in his neck and back. His joints croaked unlocking from the cramped position. Must have been the Advil. Fucking Crime Alley was tampering with drugs behind his back. He knew the streets had been a little too clean after his anti-drug stint as the Red Hood but damn. Fucking with store drugs? Crafty assholes. 

“What the fuck.” So, he’d died. Again. And he came back, again. Jason was starting to think it wasn’t as coincidental as he thought. Was that the fucking Grim Reaper he saw?? What the actual fuck is going onnnnn. 

The detective in his brain wanted to investigate, but what the hell was he supposed to do, go around to the other undead rejects and ask if they’d like to talk about their very traumatic deaths to a mass murderer? Just die again and see what happens? 

Fuck, what if he was just a meta? Power: coming back from the dead! Jason snorted, that’d be just his luck. Or maybe he’s immortal… But he hadn’t really done anything to become immortal. The Pit wasn’t that strong from one dp and though all his parents were absolute bitches, they weren’t extraordinary enough to pass on immortal genes or anything. Not to mention, most of them were dead. 

Well, whatever it was, sometimes it was just better not to fuck with stuff. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. Only really affected him when he died and honestly, Jason wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t ready to die just yet. Still had a few things to do. Like kill the Joker.

Reminded of his mission, Jason just continued the reparations. He’d have to hunt down this drug tampering business later but for now, he needed a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably gonna have another few chapters. I have no idea how much because this idea just struck me like and hour ago and I had to get it down and put it out there. I've got a vague idea of where this is goin but idk how quickly the next chapter will be. So this is my plan if u wanna see how i plan to play this, uh, Spoiler alert! Basically, jason's gonna keep dying, get more accustomed to death, maybe get a power or two, finally reconile w the batfam and then theyll find out abt all this and cue concern and love and figuring it out together! Yay family! Anywayssss, subscribe if you wanna see how this mess turns out! Review, literally please, i love my reviewers so so so much. It makes my day. Kudo it! Bookmark! Let me know if yall want more, or if my characterization is off or grammar or whatever. Love yall, stay safe and healthy


	2. Fourth Death!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason fuckin dies again. Supernatural bullshit occurs!

It had been a couple months since the third time Jason had died and really, he hadn’t been trying to die again. Dying absolutely sucked. Death wasn’t so bad, but dying was always a bitch. Besides, as much as he wanted to abuse his apparent immunity to death, Jason really wasn’t sure if it was limited like a punch card. ‘Revive three times, get the next death permanent!’ 

He couldn’t let the Red Hood die before the Joker. And once that fuckfest was solved, Crime Alley had become somewhat dependent on him for order. If the Red Hood left, the power vacuum would destroy the semblance of peace he’d created.

But of course, nothing ever goes to plan. Gotta love Murphy’s Law. There was damn near Nor'easter with all this thunder and rain that night. It set the mood at least. 

He’d been tracking down a drug shipment at the docks and got cornered while in a container. Course, Jason fought his way out easy. Only to run into an entire platoon of Black Mask’s men, all armed to the teeth. Fuck. It was supposed to be a recon mission. He wasn’t even in his mask, just a damn doc worker disguise. He couldn’t afford to get into a huge gang war right here and now. 

He glanced around quick. Normally, he’d just grapple away, but he didn’t have it on him. There wasn’t enough good spots to actually do it freehand either. Shit. The only other way out was in the water but that was very dangerous. The seas were choppy, dark and there was even lightning every few minutes. But he wanted to get shot even less than he wanted to go swimming.

After his jump into the sea, the trigger-happy idiots fired blindly into the water, congratulating themselves on his death when Jason hid silent under the pier. Shit, the waves were so strong he had to grab extra tight just to stay on but the damn barnacles were so sharp he was cutting up his hands. 

Then the storm really picked up. A particularly bad wave picked Jason off the pier and slammed him down onto the rocks. He lost his air and fought to get back up. No luck, each wave pulled in a different direction only to be replaced by one stronger in the opposite direction, none helping him to the surface. His lungs burned while the cold seas numbed his body. Not a great situation here. 

Jason finally surfaced, taking a moment to gasp for air, only to get a mouthful of dirty river water. Shit, really not a good situation. He couldn’t cough it out, dragged deep once again. This time, the world began to fade. Jason fought to keep swimming, but he couldn’t tell which way was up anymore. Everything was pulling and swaying and he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. His lungs rejected the water but only more water filled them. He choked and finally allowed himself to succumb to death once more.

If death was the worst that could happen, then it really wasn’t so bad.

* * *

The being from last time was there again. Brighter this time, more defined. Jason could definitely see an outline. 

“So, I’m dead again. What else is new. Ever gonna say anything? What are ya, the Reaper or some shit?”

The creature was tall. Sloping shoulders with a thin neck. It almost seemed to nod but it moved closer to Jason, floating over. Spooky shit. Jason tensed as it neared but just as it was about to make contact, he woke up.

He started by jolting up and puking out the remains of the water in his lungs. His hands stung like a bitch as he braced himself on the rocks under the pier. The waves lapped at his feet as he wiped his mouth. The sky was a distant cousin of what it had been, light blue and fluffy clouds. But yeah, he’d washed up under the same pier. Still in Black Mask territory. Just fucking great. 

He’d ask what the hell happened, but he remembered just fine, though his head hurt like all hell. His hands were still pretty banged up but at least nothing that needed stitches. He had some bruises and scrapes he didn’t remember getting though. Not to mention what was probably a concussion. 

All his clothes were fucking soaked. He’d have to get home in wet socks. Somehow, that seemed like the worst injustice of it all. 

Jason just wanted to climb in bed and sleep for a thousand years. He had to get there first though. Groaning, he stood up, bracing himself on a pier, gently stretching his once again jolted muscles. 

Once he’d lugged himself back on the docks, it was just a matter of sneaking back to his bike. Easy enough, just had to keep his senses on the lookout, even though his head banged like a motherfucker. He crept behind the buildings, swift and quiet, bike in range. And then he felt a chill. Something other. 

He whipped around, hand already resting on his glock. Which, shit, did waterlogged guns still work? He turned to find a child. A very fuzzy child. Which is not something children should be. Jason rubbed his eyes and blinked again. Yep, still there. Still fuzzy. 

“What the fuck… Kid. What-- Are you okay? What are you doing here?” The kid stood there, just watching him. He made no sign of comprehending and then just, fucking dissolved. The whole child just dissolved. “What the fuckkkkk… Okay, definitely concussion. Whatever.” He had to get to his bike and leave. 

On his way out, he only saw more fuzzy people. It was fucking creepy. They all stared at him like he was Wonder Woman or some other goddess. None of them made a move. He’d think it was the concussion fucking with his vision, but he could see all the buildings fine, and not every person was fuzzy. 

He decided firmly to take a nap and deal with it later. 

The problem did not go away later. In fact, there were even more fuzzy people on his return to the city after his nap. 

It was the period clothing that made him finally realize. Ghosts. They were fucking ghosts. Jason Todd, poster boy of dying, was now seeing ghosts. Of course. That’s exactly what he needed in his life. Thank you Ominous Glowing Death Outline, that will improve his life. 

They were everywhere in the city, standing or sitting with the same haunted looks. He tried to walk through one once, but a chill overpowered his body, wracking it with a unique type of grief and horror. He’d been weaving through them since then. Must look like a crazy person but fuck, he was Not walking through another orphan. 

After a few days, he got used to it. The fuckers were actually pretty useful in missions. There were always a bunch in particular crime hotspots, acting like a homing beacon for the Red Hood to come in and fuck shit up. Sometimes they faded away after Jason was done. He wondered where they went, if whatever piece of shit he’d killed had caused their death. 

Every once in a while, he’d manage to catch their attention. They were slow but on occasion they could answer questions and recon like the invisible little boons they were. Really, it wasn’t such a bad side effect after all. They were starting to grow on him.

Hell, he even started to recognize a few. The kid in front of his old hideout was Isaiah. They’d been real close before Bruce snatched him up. Jason had always wondered what happened to him, but now he knew. Poor kid. He wasn’t one of the ones that reacted to Jason. Was that how he would have ended up if he didn’t jack the Batmobile’s tires? Destined to die young either way.

Jason went back to his old apartment in hopes of seeing his mom. Catherine wasn’t there. Willis was though. He froze up on the spot when the old man turned. Just his eyes sent Jason spiraling again. Exactly as dead and cold as he remembered. He bolted and had a panic attack on the rush home. Fuck. Maybe everything wasn’t as peachy keen as he’d like it to be. 

Overall though, the ghost addition wasn’t so bad. They had their uses and mostly didn’t bother Jason anymore. He adapted. Made a note to research ghosts, but if he was being real, it took the back burner. Jason had plans for killing the Joker, and he was damned if they didn’t work. 

Besides, now he could pretend he was in a Shakespearean play, seeing ghosts like the angsty murderous protagonist he now was apparently. How had his life gotten this batshit crazy? Well, fifth life now anyways, but that’s semantics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got another rush of inspiration! Wooo! I'm thinking maybe 5 total chapters for this? Maybe 6 or 7? That should wrap it up neatly. Might add a chap to flesh out the first 2 deaths more. Anyways! Lmk what y'all thought! Comment, subscribe, kudos, bookmark! It makes me really happy and inspired to write more. Thanks so much to everyone who's commented and kudo-ed and all that! Stay inside and safe and healthy! Love y'all!


	3. Deaths 5 & 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW/ Death and Suicidal thoughts/actions. 
> 
> Jason dies a lighthearted death and then a heavy hearted death.

Honestly, he hadn’t been trying to die a fifth time. He just didn’t know he had developed an apparently deadly allergy to peanuts. Jesus, all he wanted was a goddamn classic PB&J. He’d like to take it up with some deity to ask why the fuck that change happened. In which fucking life did he lose the ability to eat something as simple as goddamned peanut butter. 

In the darkness pit, death abyss, whatever it was, the creature was there again. Just circling him. 

Jason thought the universe was just fucking with him at this point. It’s like the world asked itself, “What are some of Jason’s few comforts? Oh, the permanent assurance of death and peanut butter? Yoink!” Fuck this shit. He leaned back and stared the bitch down.

He jerked forward, shouting, “Flinch, motherfucker!” It did not flinch. He crossed his arms and ground his teeth, adding snidely, “You know, you could say something. Staring is considered rude.” 

It blinked and with a thousand overlapping voices in harmonious silence declared,

“Jason Todd, You Are A Fool.” His jaw dropped. He sucked in a breath to yell at the creature and--

* * *

He woke slumped on the kitchen table. Groaning, he spat out the remains of his poor lunch. Meal absolutely ruined. His mouth was still itchy but it seemed he didn’t lose too many hours this time around. 

“That little bitch really just fucking… Oh my god.” Death fucking called him a fool, a wholesale idiot. He and the Grim Reaper had beef now. 

What the hell. Jason’s life was already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen. Just add it to the long list of fucking bullshit the Universe had thrown at him. 

He tossed out the meal but walked down to the alley to give the peanut butter to the street kids. He watched them snatch it and covet it away with a forlorn sense of loss. It was an entire jar, almost full. But he’d never need peanut butter ever again. R.I.P. 

Alright, so the universe was straight up just fucking with him now. Mr. Hades there had practically admitted it and like, if death didn’t take him seriously, why should he take it seriously? It’s not as if dying was a big deal anymore, he’d just come back again. And again. And again. Really, it got old after the third time. Plus he kept dying in the most boring ways! A badass such as himself should die guns blazing not by peanut butter or torture or something else stupid like that. 

A lot of his current plans for the Joker involved Jason not also dying, but who gives a fuck anymore? Death isn’t permanent. It’s just a dark pit where mysterious entities insult Jason for kicks apparently and Jason practically bungee jumps into that pit every couple of months nowadays. Fine by him if he died, hell, it’d simplify a lot of bullshit he was trying to pull off anyways. Easy as cake. 

Once Bruce had killed the Joker, he wouldn’t have to keep pulling stupid solo shit anyways. He could be with his family again.

* * *

His Peanut Butter death was probably his favorite. Jason didn’t like his sixth death though. His other deaths he could understand, could rationalize. He’d died because the Joker was evil, because of aliens, because of drugs, because of drowning, because of damn allergies, but the sixth?

He’d died. And really that wasn’t much of a shock anymore. It was why. 

Bruce. Bruce had… That wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Bruce was supposed to prove that he was glad to have Jason back, that he loved him. Bruce was supposed to kill the Joker and end this nightmare once and for all and Jason could go home with his dad. Was that really too much to ask for?

That wasn’t what happened. Usually he died because it was his own fault one way or another. One mistake here, an oversight there. He could live with that, ha, or die rather. But the Red Hood had planned this night down to the minute. He had backup plans for his backup plans. The only thing that wasn’t planned for was Bruce.

How could he plan for Bruce? He hadn’t been hoping much, only expecting that Bruce would prove his love somehow. Get past his stupid rule for his undead son under pressure. Things could go back to normal and Jason could be happy again. 

Up until that moment, Jason really thought they were still family. Estranged, sure. But Bruce was still his dad. He wouldn’t care so much if he wasn’t. Now, Jason just felt like a goddamn idiot. 

From the second Bruce threw that batarang at him, he knew nothing could ever be the same. It was over. Jason was dead to Bruce and he never wanted the Red Hood, a villain. 

He’d never be able to go home. They weren’t family. This wasn’t the life he wanted and he’d tried and tried so hard to be good but how could he just let the Joker go free?! After all he’d done?!

So yeah. When he saw the Batarang come flying at him, he knew he was supposed to dodge. Bruce expected him to dodge and aimed accordingly. Hell, even the Joker prepped to escape with the dodge. If he had dodged, it probably would have only been a scratch, a distraction. 

He didn’t dodge though. Just watched it come closer, saw the grim cowl before him, the shaking maniac in his grip. What was the point? Why was he even alive anymore? Bruce didn’t care, probably hated him even. Joker had just laughed and laughed and laughed and he could still hear it. Red Hood almost started to chuckle himself because what a great cosmic joke he was! The universe’s favorite fool. 

How could he think that he could ever go back to life before? That he was wanted anymore, warped and broken as he was. What was his crusade even for? His vengeance crumbled before his eyes.

And he was just so, so tired. Tired of being angry, and hurt, and broken. Tired of being tired. He couldn’t go home. Not after this.

Bru-- Batman had killed him. 

His neck still hurt. 

He’d been blown up by the Joker again and relived his worst nightmares but somehow his throat hurt the worst. Only Batman. 

In the death abyss, Jason didn’t say anything. The dark was comforting in a way. Jason couldn’t think about all his revelations or he’d break. But that’s the only thing in his head, so he simply wasn’t thinking. He didn’t cry either, just stared. His heart clenched in pain and Jason let the darkness sink into him. 

The creature wasn’t around but Jason didn’t think about that. He just sat in the void. 

Jason liked it here, being dead. It was nicer than the living world, more peaceful. He didn’t want to leave. It probably was best for everyone if he just stayed dead this time. He let himself smile at the thought of never having to deal with the mess he left behind in the living world.

This was nice. 

But of course, the universe likes to spite him at every turn.

* * *

Evidently, it had been a couple days. Almost a week at that point. The whole in his neck had barely closed when he awoke. Jason took great care to dig himself out of trash in an alley, which he should not have been in. Ghosts crowded around him, projecting confusion, concern and in some cases jealousy. 

They tended to do that when he was out in public now. It’s almost like the could sense that he was supposed to be a ghost too but something got fucked up. They all knew about the local death freak show now anyways. Each time he came back was like a beacon for them. 

He woke in the alley by the corner store on 50th street, which should not be possible because he died at least six blocks away. 

“How the ever living fuck did I get here..?” His voice scratched out a classic rhetorical question if Jason ever heard one. One ghost in particular answered nonetheless. 

‘We walked.’ It was one of the older street kid ghosts. From the 90s maybe. 

“The fuck do you mean “we”?” Jason croaked in suspicion. He better not mean--

‘Possession.’ Well, shit. 

“Since when can I get possessed? Have you all been able to do that just whenever? Or am I a special case?” His voice slowly built up steam from use but it still grinded. Felt like he had swallowed boiling sand. He took a moment to cough. 

‘It’s probably because you were dead. Nobody likes possessing. Bodies are gross.’ 

“My body is not gross!”

‘Is too. Besides, you should be thanking me! If I didn’t get in your stinky old body, your killer would have found you!’

“Which one?” Jason quipped grimly. Because, yeah. Batman had killed him. That was something that happened. Fuck. 

‘The animal bat guys. I don’t know their names.’ Jason sighed. 

“Well, thanks kid. I appreciate it,” he waved off and began the trudge back to his closest safehouse. He had to take care of his neck before it reopened.

‘Hey!’ The kid called out again, ‘Stop dying so much!’ Jason just grinned and kept walking. Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally wrote the peanut butter death like 4 days ago and got stuck so shout out to totaltrashmammal and Like2314 for the batarang death idea bc I had no idea how to end this chapter. I hope it was sufficiently angsty but ya boy is still in shock. He can only think so much. We'll delve into the repercussions of that a lil later. (possession was a quick way to make the body undiscovered bc that reveal will be slow and delicious and at least 2 chapters off but heyy nother ghost power) thank y'all so much for over 100 kudos and all your comments!!! if youve got a request or idea for a death or really any other part that you'd like to see, drop it in the comments good chance itll happen


	4. Death 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Hood's fool proof guide to emotions leads to dying again.

Something was off with the Red Hood and everybody knew it. 

The ghosts knew it, the Bats knew it, the GCPD knew it, hell even the Rogues knew it. And they all knew to steer well clear of him. What they didn’t know was why. Sure, they had their own suspicions but it didn’t really matter to most people. He was just another criminal, another insane murderer because that’s all he was, right?

Didn’t matter how many innocents he saved, he’d still be known as the killer. The fucked up ex-sidekick who should have stayed dead. 

Gotta say, that mentality was really fucking with Red Hood in the head. Normally, he wouldn’t give a flying shit what other people thought about him. The amount of fucks he gave was usually in the negatives. He did what he thought was right and that was enough for him. Usually.

Batman’s rejection shouldn’t hurt him this much. It shouldn’t. He’d been basically disowned. He was as good as dead to Batman. Tons of kids go through it every year, so Jason really should be better at handling it. It wasn’t a big deal. He owed Batman nothing, not even hurt feelings. But that didn’t make them just go away. 

Jason didn’t do sad very well. He did anger fabulously, vengeance even better. He was great at being smug or comforting or mischievous. But not sad. Being sad was letting them know they hurt you, letting them win, that you’re vulnerable. Why give them the satisfaction? Being sad wasn’t productive like anger; it was just lazy. 

You couldn’t be sad in Crime Alley. That’s a quick ticket to losing all street cred and practically begging for some older kid to come and beat you up. Couldn’t even grieve his Mom the moment he went out on the streets when he’d still been a brat. He had had to be strong to survive.

The Bat Cave wasn’t much different. Batman certainly never cried. Not while Jason had been there at least. Alfred was always hard to read and Dick was always either angry at Batman or angry at Batman and Jason. Dick hadn’t liked Jason very much back then. 

But he didn’t really see sadness at the Manor. So he didn’t allow himself to be sad there. Nobody else was and he had a good life. He was Robin for fucks sake! No reason for sadness. None at all. 

Jason thought about letting himself be sad after his own death. Surely, that was a valid cause for sadness? The League of Assassins tampered down that urge pretty quick by manipulating the Pit Madness. All he was left with was rage. Which he did flawlessly. Jason would consider himself an expert at rage now. No one did it better. It suit him. 

Being angry was good. It got shit done. Spite, vengeance, rage, it all fueled him. He had to direct that energy outwards because if not, he’d destroy himself. But being destructive, self- or otherwise, was a sick sort of satisfying. 

So, anyways. Jason was pissed at Batman and the Joker. He definitely wasn’t sad because Jason didn’t get sad from hoes like those. Not anymore. He was better than that. 

If he might have gotten a little more violent or reckless in his missions, really, who’s counting? Jason was a one man show that was killing it. Damn, was he hypercompetent or what? 

Though Red Robin or Barbara were probably counting. They kept track of things like that for all the villains. Whatever, not like they ever actually did anything with those statistics.

Maybe his kill rate had increased and maybe he used excessive force and just maybe he wasn’t taking a long enough break between missions to recover, but he was thriving. Honest. The streets were really clearing up and Jason felt proud. Even the cognitive ghosts were avoiding him. They’d been all up in his shit at first, all concerned like it was any of their business, but he yelled at them enough times that most were wary to approach. Well, teaches them right for sticking their noses where they don’t belong. 

Jason was perfectly fine. Better than fine. Who needs an old bastard like Batman anyways? Or his merry little band of fuckwits? Fuck them.

* * *

When he found himself in the dark abyss for the seventh time, Jason could admit to himself, privately, that maybe he had been a little too reckless. Maybe.

You could never be too careful with the League but Jason thought the hit on him had expired ages ago. Apparently someone forgot the memo. Or rather, a group of ninja someones forgot the memo.

The thing about the League was that yes, the generic assassins are fodder. He’d trained in their ways and had taken out thousands over the course of his training. But not every assassin was complete trash and they were still assassins. Killing people was their craft and really Jason had been almost asking for it, walking around injured with no armor like that. 

He could respect the death. That one was on him. But did they really have to slash every major artery? It was just overkill, ba dum tiss. Seriously though, that blood would be a pain to wash out when he was alive again. Not to mention, now he had slashes in his favorite pair of jeans, damn it. He wasn’t some edgy teenager.

The long glowy bitch was staring him down again and Jason knew they’d be there for a long time. His death hadn’t been particularly pretty and it’d probably take a while to come back again. He was starting to feel pretty annoyed at the situation. So he dies again only to come and get stared at? Who the fuck does it think it is?

“What are you starin’ at?” It blinked, as if only to contradict him. 

“A Mortal With No Common Sense.” Oh, that was It. 

“Fuck you, you glowy ass emo piece of shit! I didn’t ask to fucking come here and be stared at by some kinda fucked up glowstick. Mind your business, rude ass bitch. What gives you the goddamn right to insult me when I just fucking died again? Why don’t you go die and I can insult you for a change? How do you like that?!” Jason spat out, huffing and crossing his arms, raising his chin challengingly. Maybe that’d shut it up.

It was back to staring. Of course. It waited for Jason to calm his breathing. That was almost patronizing enough for Jason to get worked up again. Almost. Jason did Not have daddy issues. He did Not.

“We Are The Embodiment Of Death. And You Are Dead.” Jason could almost hear the implied ‘and that’s why, you little shit.’

“Oh, so you wanna give answers now? No more personalized insults from Mr. Grim Reaper himself?”

It was silent for another while. Jason was tempted to let the darkness wash over him again. But he couldn’t let his guard down with it here. Not yet. Not in the middle of an argument. He had to stay angry. Keep his dignity for a little while longer.

“Your Life Force Dwindles Ever Further, Young One.” And that. That did not sound good. No good implications any way he looked at it. By all accounts, not good. Some would even say bad. 

“That a threat?” But Jason was never one to be intimidated. The stupid glowstick looked somewhere between resigned and fond. Which was stupid because it was a fucking glorified glow worm. 

“This Cannot Last Forever. Consider This Your Warning.” It faded. It faded into the darkness and what the fuck. ‘Can’t last forever’ bitch what? What can’t? Coming back from the dead? Uh, yeah, it better not. Jason didn’t wanna be fucking stuck watching the sun explode one day. 

Plus, like, the whole deal of him wanting to die. Living was fucking over rated. And well, yes, he knew that wasn’t technically a healthy mentality to have but shit was fucked in the mortal realm. 

When he was alive, he had to fight. Everyday against everyone to save his people in Crime Alley and got almost no thanks from anyone. What used to be his family hunted him down like a dog and he could never just be. It really started it to wear on a guy. 

Jason was tired. He was. No point in denying it to himself when alone in the abyss. He could at least enjoy his demise. 

Death was nice. It was relaxing to just let the darkness swallow him. To erase all his worries, all his regrets, all his personality and baggage. No guilt in death. No angry ex-family. No assassins, or murder, or rape. No pollution and he wasn’t That Guy who killed for “fun” that people avoided. Like he ever actually wanted to do any of this. Like if the system just worked, he wouldn’t have to-- but it didn’t matter here. The justice system and morality of his actions didn’t weigh on him. No one imposed on him and he felt so light and free. More than he had since, probably ever. His life was defined by stressors and trauma that just got worse and worse and had he even been so free? So happy?

Death was a little vacation from his usual hustle and bustle of hatred and blood. And yeah. It was nice.

* * *

‘Are you still angry, Mr. Hood, sir?’ The peace came crashing down in splinters as he woke, ready to thrust his rage at whoever dared to--

It was a little girl around five or six from what looked like the thirties. Damn. He couldn’t yell at a kid, much less a dead kid. He shrugged off his sudden violence and tried to give off the best big brother vibes he could emulate.

“No. No, I’m not angry. What’s your name, kiddo?”

‘Ame-- Amelia. Everyone else said you were angry. Said not to come.’

“Well, they were wrong. I’m not angry, see?” He smiled real big just for effect. She giggled and he felt a little lighter.

‘You look funny, Mr. Hood.’

“Oh, really? What if I frowned then? Would I still be funny lookin’?” He tugged down his cheeks and looked reminiscent of Beaker from the Muppets. She let out a delighted squeal of laughter.

‘Yes! You still look funny!’ Jason paused in mock confusion.

“What should I do then, Miss Amelia?” he asked in deep concern. Nobody could ever call Jason Todd an unskilled thespian. The face journey he’d just had deserved two oscars at least. He would have done theater if he ever had the chance. Between Crime Alley and being Robin and well, dying, he’d never had the time. Probably wouldn’t ever. But Jason was a dramatic ass hoe either way. He’d make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jason: i can have a little death. as a treat.
> 
> So lowkey a filler chapter but I needed to set up his reckless behavior and bad coping mechanisms before we get the bats concerned enough to step in. Plus had to establish that other ppl are starting to notice somethin is Up. 
> 
> Cool! Lmk what yall thought! The response to the last chapter really had my heart go pitter patter i love yall. Drop a comment, kudo, bookmark, subscribe! I think I'm starting to get an actual plan for the plot? Still open to any and all suggestions tho!


	5. Death 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason dies. Dick is involved. Morals come up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for the plot: canon is out the window guys. This death scene is based loosely on the warehouse in NYC w/ Jason and Dick in the comics bc this scenario was requested (but I have not read the comics and that timeline is a bit too spaced out so we improvise. shoutout rpglady76 and darklight123 for the request) And really, what is DC canon but what I will it to be?

Dick had left him. 

Left him abandoned in a warehouse to die. Ah, call backs. The twist this time was that it was on purpose. Batman had done all he could to save him in Ethiopia, but Dick-- he had just left.

Like he didn’t care whether Jason lived or died. That he was so irredeemable he wasn't even worthy of their obsession with preserving life. Maybe he didn’t deserve it after all.

So, he died. In a warehouse. Alone. Hey, hadn’t he seen this before? Man, the universe was sure running out of ideas to fucking kill him so why not try the old classics?

Despite his disowning by Bruce, he didn’t really think that Dick had abandoned him too. Sure, they were still on opposite sides of morality and they didn’t really get along that great even before but surely their relationship had counted for something? And he was still a person that could have used the save. Wasn’t his life still worth saving?

But no. Dick hadn’t even left in a dramatic fashion. No monologue. No justification. No fanfare. He was just gone. And wow! What wonders that did on his abandonment issues! Nothing a little repression wouldn’t fix though. Maybe it was just his damaged hearing… Either way, nothing changed. 

If he was being considerate, he had arrived in Bludhaven without much warning and Nightwing did have to run this shitshow on his own, so he was probably too busy. Probably thought he’d be fine. Why save the skilled murderer when there’s helpless innocents in danger a block away? 

It was the logical decision. It was. He couldn’t hold it against Nightwing but damn. Damn it. Didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt. It always hurt. 

That was the moment Jason decided to stop believing in family. For good this time.

* * *

Death hadn’t had much to say about this one and Jason didn’t want to talk either. They sat in silence but he felt like they had reached an understanding. One of respect and unfortunate circumstances. 

He left Bludhaven after that stint. Didn’t think about it, just refocused back in Gotham. Branching out had been stupid. Of course, Dick wouldn’t want anything to do with him.

Jason had to spend every bit of his time on work or he’d break. He had to keep moving, keep patrolling, training, anything but think. Thinking never did him any good. He had a job to do and by god, he’d get it done. Wasn’t like he was good for anything else.

Red Hood. That’s all he was.

* * *

“He’s out again,” Barb called out.

“Again? Who?” Dick waltzed in drying hair from the shower in the cave. 

“Hood. He just went on patrol this morning. And last night. And the night before.” Well, that wasn’t concerning. 

“Oh, is something going down in the Alley?”

“Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary but you know how spotty our coverage in Crime Alley can be. If anything, the crime rate is going down from him being out and about so often.”

“True. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” He paused and approached the screen as Red Hood’s recorded activity hotspots were pulled up. “Why’s he so active then?”

“I don’t know but the hours he’s putting in are crazy. Almost puts Tim to shame. I have him on the prowl for 40 hours this week alone. And that’s just what I have him recorded for publicly in costume.” Dick let out a low whistle. That didn’t even begin to account for all the behind the scenes work.

“Wow. That’s some stamina. Is he just not getting injured or..?” Barbara furrowed her brow and continued,

“That’s the other thing. He definitely has a gunshot wound. We got some witnesses to a bank robbery. He’s been limping on footage but he’s still going out. Guy just doesn’t know when to quit.”

“You can say that again. Damn, what is he so hellbent on? Well, I just finished some training, I could go out with Cass and figure out what’s up if you like.”

“Yeah, thanks. Make sure you pick up takeout from that Chinese place on 5th too!” 

“Gotcha! Then, I’ll be back with goodies!”

* * *

Jason was cleaning up some punk who fancied himself as a super villain when Nightwing and Black Bat showed up. With the three of them, it was quick work. He’d be more annoyed that they were in his territory if he wasn’t so relieved for the easy catch. It’d been a long night and it wasn’t like he got much sleep these days. 

It was almost time for the Red Hood to retire after what had been a relatively normal patrol. Always count on a bat or two to ruin his night. He really was not in the mood for their bullshit again. 

He’d stopped trying to tangle with the bats after the whole batarang and warehouse 2: electric boogaloo shindig. They all sucked but Jason killed bad people, people who deserved it. The Bats, for all their faults and despite their nonlethal policy, did mostly good work in the city. Hood didn’t like ‘em but as long as they didn’t bother him, Jason could focus on the real work that needed to be done.

Who needed them anyway? They obviously didn’t want him anymore and Jason didn’t have time for distractions. He was finally cleaning this damn city up unlike before where he was so fixated on Batman and his stupid ‘family’. Well, that bridge was burned, so to Jason, they were just another player in the field that he had a little extra info on. That’s all they were.

Still, it hurt. To see them. Usually that discomfort was physical, some bruises here and there so they could say they fought the nasty wasty villain he was. But the Bats still had banter and playful rapport. They touched each other casually in a way that made Jason aware of just how much he was craving it. He could see their silent communication built from years of trust. The way they all just seemed to belong together. 

All the things he used to have. All the things he used to be. Everything still the same as it always was.

Except he wasn’t there. 

Didn’t matter if he was there, they were just as happy if not more so. Wasn’t needed or wanted apparently. Because fuck him, right? Who needs the biggest burden around when you can just go get a replacement or ten and pretend like Jason was just a bad dream. 

But he wasn’t hurt because he didn’t need them, because how pathetic would it be to still want to be a part of their fake family when they’d tossed him out like trash time and time again. So, no. Jason wasn’t affected by the bats. He’d moved on. Really, he had. What’s a few deaths to damage a purely professional relationship?

Nevertheless, a few assists here and there on mutual enemies had led to a lowering of tensions and might have misled the Bats to think that they were on better terms. In reality, he had just stopped trying to kill them and withdrew himself when they were avoidable.

Somehow that led Nightwing to thinking he could actually ask how he was doing, all worried about his “little brother”. As if he had any right. As if they were still family. As if that wasn’t just a thin veil to get intel. 

He actually tried to tell Jason off for his work habits. And then, he had the nerve to try the whole “Stop killing, Jason. Killing is bad, Jason.” speech again. Like it worked so well the first three times and wasn’t actually just gold painted bullshit.

Black Bat stood next to Nightwing. She didn’t say much but her body language just rubbed him the wrong way. She’d been covering for him in battle and was still looking like she was itching to smother him still. Well, he wasn’t here for it. 

“I’ll tell you what, asshole. I’m done with you Bats. I’m done. I’ve got bigger shit to worry about than whether or not I’m abiding by your hypocritical moral code. Thanks for the help but kindly fuck off.” And that ended that in a very succinct and satisfying note in Jason’s opinion. That steely look that had overtaken the worried one on Dick’s face was so, so good. And it might have felt a little good to let Dick be the one left hanging this time. He had snorted and grappled away onto the roofs while the cops came, feeling rather pleased with himself. Fuck the bats. 

But what Dick saw was different. Jason was heavily favoring his right side, belaying an injury that looked a little too wet in the dark light. The helmet covered any tells on his face but his voice had been slurred and dull. Hood had been far too slow for comfort, in combat, in his responses, in grappling away. All together it did not paint a pretty picture.

He exchanged a glance with Cass and knew she had seen what he had, probably more even. 

Dick sighed, watching his brother grapple away unable to find the words to convey his concern.. Cass nodded slowly, gaze trailing after the boy.

* * *

He didn’t know why they decided to pretend they cared now. He really didn’t. 

Sure, his work habits probably weren’t healthy. But since when did they give a fuck about him or his health? If they wanted to show they cared, the Joker’s head was right there practically begging for a bullet and it wasn’t like he kept that little fact quiet. 

But no, can’t kill, of course not. There’s never any possible reason for someone to be better off dead, right Batman? It’s not like that Arkham is beyond corrupted and allows Joker to keep killing, right Batman? That the lives, mental health, and safety of countless innocents could possibly be saved by the death of a scumbag or two. That government itself justifies taking lives everyday for the “betterment of the whole” via military and police and even the death penalty. That there were some crimes so heinous that the perpetrator could never atone. No, of course not Batman. None of that ever happens. 

What a fucking joke. For all his extensive world training, Batman sure viewed the world in a naive light. All of them bats. They didn’t know the first thing about what it was actually like for the people they’re “protecting”. 

Sure, the Bats stopped a mugging or two and put away the big boys but when was the last time Bruce Wayne sat down and had an honest chat with someone who had less than nothing, pushed to crime because they didn’t have the luck to be born a billionaire’s child. When did Damian last had to grapple with the pressure to join a gang? When was the last time Nightwing had to comfort a trauma victim, failed by the system, unable to sleep because their abuser was still out there somewhere? When was the last time Tim freed a tortured soul by killing their murderer? 

Okay, maybe that last one was unfair, but the point remains. Jason did good valuable work. 

If any of them were in touch with reality, they’d know that most Gotham residents, especially in his part of town, wouldn’t shy away from a little executioner action by the bats. Most would probably welcome it in fact, like they did with him. Red Hood wasn’t seen as a villain by anyone in Gotham except the Bats and the fat cats in the diamond district controlling the news stations who lauded taking the moral high ground like it was something special. 

You did what you had to do. Morals are subjective and most of his people didn’t have the privilege to keep such a pure ideology. That was something most Bats just didn’t understand. 

Jason wouldn’t kill if he didn’t have to, but he did because no one else could. It took a sort of grim understanding about human nature and a solemn responsibility for his community. There were just some people who refused to get better, to stop hurting people. They never stopped until they were forced to. No amount of therapy, community service, or time in the slammer would change that. Some people were just plain evil. Some people were just better off dead and they wouldn’t get that way without a little help from old Hoody.

But they didn’t understand that. The Bats could call Hood’s way barbaric and violent all they pleased but their line of logic was naive and foolhardy. It basically went ‘killing bad. People good.’ For all they claimed moral superiority, crime rates had really only been drastically decreasing after Jason started clearing the scene. 

But they didn’t want to hear that because killing was never okay for any reason. Stupid fucking hypocritical bitches. Jason got results at least. They just overburdened the legal and health system.

Ugh. He was getting himself worked up. Too many thoughts. This living shit was getting exhausting. He leaned back on the roof and turned to the ghost staring wistfully at the sea beside him. 

“You get it, right?” She turned to him, eyes still blank and impossibly deep. She just stared and he nodded, “yeahhh, you do.”

She probably did, too. Looked like a Victorian ghost and you know the older ones only stayed this long if something truly fucked up happened to them. 

Death wasn’t so bad. It really wasn’t and he’d know. 

Sometimes Jason thought that death was probably too good for some of the jackasses he put away but he really wasn’t into the whole torturing scene after his first death. Too many bad memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jason: anarchy! anarchy!
> 
> random victorian ghost: i don't know what that is but i love it
> 
> I struggled so so so much w this chapter. So much so that I wrote the next two chapters and two drafts of this before finishing this monstrosity. Eventually I just said fuck it and this is what you get bc im tired of messing with it. I'm still not super happy with it but whatever. Might rewrite this chapter at the end of this fic to smooth it out and amp up some emotion but I am absolutely so Done. Batfam is endgame here so the super angry tensions are gonna abate after this and then the reveal and then real drama! Can't wait to write that. I think I've got the rest of the deaths figured out so I'm not super open to more death requests. cheers to having a semi plot.
> 
> Anyways! Thank you so much for all your support! Your reviews literally make my heart burst. Stay safe and inside if you can and remember: don't trust the government!


	6. Relieve Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason recovers a body for a spirit and in doing so runs into a few more bats. (no deaths this time)

The thing about being angry was that it was exhausting. It took so much energy to be mad about something all the time and now all Jason wanted to do was sleep. And kill every unredeemable asshole. But mainly sleep. Sleep was good. 

He just felt drained and low. Low energy, low life. Like a cockroach that just can’t stay dead but scuttles around anyways, defying the laws of nature like the freak it is. Ugh, cockroaches. There had been a few outside his door that morning. Well, it wouldn’t have been Crime Alley with them.

His constant exhaustion might have something to do with whatever “life force” thing the glow worm was talking about a while ago but honestly, Jason thought it was just throwing terms around to be dramatic and ominous like cryptids tend to be. He might have to do some looking into that because there had to be a reasonable explanation for why he felt like such absolute shit. Certainly couldn’t be him though he’d probably just find some hippie hullabaloo.

He thought he could feel it sometimes. Or rather, not really “life force”, more like, the negative spaces? The pathways from the mortal realm. The big sleep. Good old fashioned death. 

At first it was just chills when he passed by roadkill and ghosts, which is fair, rooted in reality. He thought he’d been desensitized by then but alright. Then he kept stumbling upon fatalities. 

The path he took that day just happened to pass by a nasty car crash. On patrol, he opened the dumpster on a whim and found a cold baby, still swaddled. His taxi passed a jumper on the bridge. She wasn’t stopped in time.

He couldn’t really define the feeling but it was cold and sucking and alluring, silent until faced with the macabre, ringing loud and clear as something other. Jason followed its scent every time without much notice, subtle as it was. But coincidences added up. Though aware, he couldn’t do much to stop it. He could barely notice it outside of those moments. 

That’s why it was so unusual when he felt it mid-patrol so strong it pulled his brain inside out in a throbbing ice pick of a brain freeze. He didn’t notice the spirit follow him.

* * *

The warehouse he was led to was trashed. Natural skylights and plenty of rubble. Every relator’s dream. The whole place stunk of wet dog and burned hair. Thank fuck for his mask’s air filtering system. At least his headache had died down a little (ha.)

‘Sir?’ Jason whipped around, pistols aimed at whatever ninja could sneak up-- He tucked them away as he saw the ghost. She looked mild mannered and was that--? Yep, his first alien ghost. That’s a new one. Didn’t know aliens could be ghosts. Even had little ghost antennas.

“Are you the one stirring up all this--” He waved around for the right term. “Weird brain hurty shit? ‘Cause it don’t feel amazing, you know?”

‘I apologize. I died here. I understand you can help me.’ 

“Well, that depends. I got other shit going on. Whaddya want?”

‘My body. It’s going to be dissected. Please, give me my last rites. I beg you.’ And with her plead came a wave of grief and anger. Good grief. Jason almost keeled over again just from the tsunami of feelings after having suppressed his own for so long. What, did her species have empathy shit going on? Holy fuck it was strong. Hood was Not going to cry. Not today damnit!

“Oh my god, fine. Fine. I will. Just stop, stop whatever this is.” And she promptly did. Manipulative dead girl. “Okay, alright. So, who has your body?”

‘You will bury me? You will destroy them? Avenge me?” Atta girl. Now that’s a sentiment he could relate to.

“Absolutely. You know what? We might just get along.”

* * *

Red Robin and Spoiler showed up to the party when he was restocking to prep for the retrieval. It was a Lexicorp branch lab just outside of city limits. Wouldn’t be a cake walk but Jason could handle it. With enough ammo of course. Though that tended to raise red flags with the wrong sort. Wonder why.

“Mind telling me why you’re stocking up on enough bullets to wipe out half of Gotham?” Ah, the joyous melody of his replacement. His night just got so much better. 

It wasn’t like they were on the worst of terms. It’d been a while since his “death to all bats” brigade and there had been a few assists here and there like with rounding up major Arkham outbreaks. More interaction than he’d like but it was professional. He mostly just avoided them. 

“What’s it look like, Replacement? I’m making a pinata.” He continued to load the ammunition in the trunk. “Don’t tell Nightwing now, it’s supposed to be a surprise for his birthday. Want to help?”

“His birthday was four months ago. Now, fess up. We can’t just let you go off with this kind of stuff willy nilly.” And Stephanie just couldn’t resist correcting him. But it was interesting to note he’d completely misremembered Dick’s birthday. Coulda sworn it was March, but he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned. Probably should be, but he had bigger fish to fry.

“So look away. It’s not that hard.” 

“Hood, you know we can’t do that,” Tim replied back evenly, eyes gleaming like the twit was enjoying this verbal ping pong. Jason really wasn’t in the mood to keep it up much longer. 

“You know, kid, I really didn’t have much against you personally anymore but you’re starting to get on my nerves.” The brat looked taken aback.

“Nothing personal huh? What about that time you tried to kill me?” 

“Oh, pish posh. Old news. A little death adds character. And really, who haven’t I tried to kill?”

“Me,” Stephanie chipped in, oh so helpfully. 

“Well, that might change the way you’re going at it. Keep bugging me, see what happens.”

Oracle or maybe Alfred must have been active in their comms because both fell silent, exchanged glances and resolved a plan. Definitely didn’t miss that old move. No siree. 

Stephanie looked him dead in the mask and with the most serious voice from her yet,

“Are you going to do murder stuff with all this?” Now that got her a bark of a laugh. Knew he liked her gumption. Tim seemed to be analyzing it all, like it was a respectable question that deserved a real answer. Which, Jason supposed it did, being so honest and all. Their naivety spoke of their youth, but he’d like to think he had earned the trust. 

“No, I’m not.” They seemed to think he was ernest even given his very long track record proving them otherwise. The Bats went off to answer whatever call had drawn them away and Jason went on his merry way. The ghost just watched.

* * *

Jo. That wasn’t her name but that’s what they agreed on when Jason failed pronouncing it the nineteenth time. 

Jo, the alien ghost. His life had its weird spots but Jason had learned to roll with it. He was cool like that. 

Getting her body wasn’t easy. He had to brush up on his hacking skills and tap into the old spy network. Almost felt like old times. But they weren’t. Batman hated him and he was just an overdue corpse helping out someone in the similar shoes.

Still, he hauled Jo’s body out of the lab all the same. And that just happened to be the unfortunate time for the Big Bat himself to show up with Replacement (the Remix). 

“Hood,” the graveled voice came a-grumbling. Oooh, how scary. No, really. Jason suddenly found he was having trouble breathing. It came short and he felt the familiar upset of panic and his brain short wire. 

‘Jason?’ Jo came from beside him. She began some sort of soothing thing, he didn’t know. But it sure worked. His panic quelled and he focused. Had to get out of there, quick. The lab security wouldn’t be down forever and Jo’s body was heavy. 

“Batman. I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but it’s not. Get out of my way.”

“What are you doing with the body?” the little Demon Brat snidely asked. Like that tone was going to get any real response. Little bastard. And big bastard. Side by side, a real father and son duo. So that’s what it looked like. Well, it was overrated in his book anyways. 

“Fuck off, brat. You too, old man. I’ve got business to attend to and you’re not in the agenda.” 

“Jason, I--” And in that tone, by that man, his anger could only surge once more. Batman lost the right to say his name long ago. It stoked his energy, ready to burst and--

But fuck, Jo. Jo was still there. Innocent and she needed him. Couldn’t fail her like Batman had failed him. 

“I’m doing something fucking decent for once. Not that you’d understand,” he ground out, ending with a challenging stance. Jason was ready to fight again. He wanted to, needed to. But he couldn’t. Had to help her and--

Batman said nothing. Absolutely nothing. He didn’t know what he was expecting but he still felt let down. Typical. Hood huffed and readjusted the body, preparing to dash off. Robin made a jolt for a rope to stop him but Batman held out a hand, stopping the boy. He held the gaze, connecting beneath cowl and mask steady. 

Jason sprinted away. As fast as he could. Away from that man, away from that life. He couldn’t-- he just couldn’t. It was too much.

* * *

“Batman, why did you allow him to leave with the body?” Bruce’s gaze still lingered on where his son had disappeared into the night.

“Sometimes, you need to have faith in the goodness of others’.”

“That’s foolish, tt. You’ve been spending too much time with Clark. Red Hood is a mass murderer. I don’t understand why you’re so lenient with him.” Actually, his therapist had given him that line but Clark probably helped with believing it. 

“He’s also your brother.” Damian snorted, covering it at the reproachful look from behind the cowl. “And has been very, very hurt.” That sobered the boy up quickly. The tragic tale of the second Robin had been told a few too many times in the past. 

“He was still Robin, at one point, and I know I wouldn’t become a serial killer if I died.”

“Need I remind you of your own sordid past?” 

“No.” The boy sulked. It would stop being cute one day, but not today. 

“Well, then, maybe we can try to understand Hood and help him recover like you.” At least, he could hope. He could pray and hope and maybe Jason would come home. They could be a real family again. It was a slow process but he could never give up on anyone, least of all his son. 

“Stupid Clark.”

“What was that, Robin?”

“Nothing, Batman.”

* * *

‘Here. Here is good.’ Jo had directed him to a river bed. ‘I thank you, Jason. I do. I fear I may have wandered, tortured for all eternity. But you have brought me resolution. Thank you.’ 

“Any time. So, what do I do now-- just start digging or do you have a plan here?” Jo did the closest thing she could to chuckle.

‘Place my body on the river.’ Jason gave a thumbs up, starting to feel the emotional toil of the day. He followed her orders and placed the alien on the water’s surface and sat back, taking in the scene. Moonlight trailed down. ‘Thank you.’ And her body dissolved into light. It wasn't beautiful or glittery but solemn and luminating. 

“Woah.” He looked around to ask her about it but Jo was gone. She was gone the same as her body and he felt the loss acutely. So, she had left too. Like everyone else. The feeling of death abated, but the chill had become friendly, the warmth of life a little too hot now. 

His friend was gone as well. Off to a better place. Jason almost wished he could join her.

* * *

A packet of information on a large alien trafficking and experimentation ring appeared in the Batcave later that week. Wasn’t like he actually trusted the bats but it had been too large for the Red Hood to take on alone. He simply didn’t have the tech or manpower. That was just the hard reality. He was local and already stretched thin enough. Couldn’t dream of taking on the galaxy just yet. 

It pained him all the same. But if those Bats were good for anything, they could get justice for Jo and everyone like her, even if they couldn’t for him. Just maybe they wouldn’t fail anyone else. 

And when they did fail, well, that’s what he was for. Insurance of Absolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! First chapter with no deaths! And what?! I can write dialogue?! It's been years. This was originally a rewrite of chapter 5 but I spruced up an earlier version for that and kept this. It's not a super necessary chapter but it was already written so here you are! Plus, new power and finally get some batfamily interaction just to get them established as not complete mortal enemies rn, but don't you worry! They're about to begin to find out abt multideath boy over here next chap. (key word: begin, its just the tip of the iceberg) 
> 
> Just some implied things here: bruce has started going to therapy and hangs on the reg w clark, he's not a perfect dad by any means but he's gonna try and be a lot more careful/empathetic than in the comics (still an asshole tho and will not be let off the hook that easy)
> 
> Alright cool. Lmk what y'all thought! I read every review and i die of happiness (not to mention there are some gr8 ideas in there that I try to incorporate) Drop a kudo, bookmark, subscribe, whatever, I love yall. Thanks sm for the great response!! Next chapter just needs some editing and it'll be out real soon! Stay safe and healthy!


	7. Death 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason dies in an alley. Surprise! Guess who finds the body?

Another day, another death. It had been a particularly dry spell for his dying record. Seems like he had been overdue. Just like the Mrs. Dalloway he checked out three weeks ago. Shit, the librarian was gonna be on his ass again.

It was relatively clean compared to previous deaths. Bullet through the heart. Entry and exit wounds so he wouldn’t have to deal with digging the damn thing out himself. He’s pretty sure Sionis was involved somehow but the shooter came from the back so he couldn’t know for sure. Fucking coward.

He’d been stupid. Again, he always trusted too easily! That would be the last time he ever wore body armor from a shifty dealer. Did he ever learn anything? Couldn’t trust the Bats. Couldn’t trust the ghosts. Couldn’t trust himself. He was always too damn reckless.

* * *

“Hood?” No response. A scuffle had been reported along with some gun shots that just screamed Todd. Nightwing and Red Robin had been dispatched to deescalate the situation but when they arrived, there was no situation. 

Nothing but Red Hood collapsed in a pool of blood. It didn’t look good. Too much blood and some of it was already dried, just how long had he been laying here?

Dick glanced back to Tim and they got to work. He tiptoed around the puddle, making a b-line to the head. Couldn’t get the damn mask off, Jay’d never show them how but he could at least feel for a pulse. 

He waited for the pulse. There has to be a pulse. Probably was faint so he pressed harder. Okay, a little harder. He should feel the pulse now, why can’t he feel the pulse? 

“Nightwing, look.” Tim shifted the body from it’s heap and they saw exactly where the bullet hole was. They both knew what that meant. But, it absolutely could not mean that because there’s no way his brother could die again. Not so young. Not again. 

But, there wasn’t a pulse. The body was limp and cold and everything it should not be because this could not be happening. They had finally started to become friendly again and he-- it’s all over. For good this time. 

“Shit… Jason.” Dick’s voice came out soft, weak, throat tightening against the tears threatening to spill. “No, you ca-- you can’t die on me again. I shoulda-- I’m so sorry.” He held the body a little tighter. 

Tim still kneeled from where he had inspected the corpse, staring detached at the dark blood pooling around them. They’d finally, finally started to bond and now-- now he was dead, again. 

How could this have happened? It was a normal night. Nothing out of the ordinary and yet. This shouldn’t have happened. Nothing like this should have happened at all.

Tim buried the grief deep and glanced at Dick, catching the tears break through the shock. Great, he supposed he’d have to call it in. There’d be time to mourn later. 

Damn it, Jason. He can’t keep doing this to his big brother. Jay would have probably retorted back and denied the relationship while mocking him for his empathy. Dick choked back a sob at the imagined response, the laugh he’d never get to hear again, the smile that would never grace his brother’s face one last time. 

His brother was gone. Why did it hurt more than the first time?

* * *

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” The glowing creature slowly nodded. It had seemed to gain more of a personality and sense of social skills after a few conversations so it wasn’t such a huge bitch by default anymore. 

Now, it made the choice to be an asshole but for once, Jason wasn’t in the mood to fight. All he wanted was the answer to one question. One simple question and the thing was being as slippery as its glow worm namesake.

“So You’ve Told Us.” 

“Look, I’m not saying that everyone deserves death, but some certainly do!”

“All Pass Through Here Eventually.”

“Well, yes, yes, permanent death is inevitable for us all, blah, blah, blah.” Jason waved it off casually before continuing, “But do you think there’s anything wrong with sending a few assholes here early?” It stayed silent but turned away.

“Hey, don’t dodge the question!”

“The Ones You Want Validation From Are Not Here.” Jason crossed his arms and huffed. 

“First off, don’t psychoanalyze me, rude bitch.” Though he really couldn’t disagree. Still, he argued, “And second, I don’t care what they think! They don’t care about me and I don’t care about them!” Again, the silence said enough. “Fine. Be that way. Don’t say anything. I was just askin’.” He sunk into himself and pouted into the nothingness. 

All he wanted was some assurance that he wasn’t actually a shit person. Who better to get moral justification from than the glowy bitch who apparently presided over death itself? He knew he was doing the right thing. He did. Morality was relative after all. 

It was just hard sometimes. Especially when everyone important in his life disapproved. He was so tired of seeing the uncomfortable guilt and regret Dick thought he couldn’t see whenever Hood’s agenda was brought up. How no one could really look him in the eye and have a real conversation. 

It’d be nice to have someone on his side for once. He could really use the support even if he didn’t want to ask for it. Just one person. Just one. 

That was one thing he missed from being a bat. You always had a team, a family. Even if you bickered, you still loved each other and agreed on the fundamentals. You were knew you were trusted and loved no matter what. That you were worthy of such love. 

Jason wished he still felt like that.

* * *

The first thing he noticed when he came back was that he was being held. And tightly too. It’d been such a long time since he was last hugged. It felt good. But who in the world would hug him? No matter, his brain was too foggy and touch starved to do anything but enjoy it. He snuggled in a little bit more.

“...Jason?” Dickie croaked out. It sounded so small and choked up. Things his brother would not be unless something was seriously wrong. He dared to creak open his eyes. 

“Hey, Dickhead. What’s up?” Apparently he was in Nightwing’s lap as the man stared down at him incredulously. A tear dropped on him. But that couldn’t be right. What was he even thinking? Nightwing wouldn’t cry over him. 

He sat up and turned to face the two heroes, gazes locked on him somewhere around shock.

“You’re alive?” Oh, right. He died again, didn’t he? That would be a hassle to explain off but damn, Dick sounded so vulnerable, small, weak. It was almost touching. Almost. 

“Well, I’m here, ain’t I?” For emphasis, he threw a lil pizazz in the gesture at himself. Really, he was moving and talking and it wasn’t like he was a zombie or a ghost… yet. 

“...how? The bullet went through the heart. You should be dead or, at least wounded.” At least, the Replacement didn’t look like he was in the middle of a breakdown. Though, he did look particularly dead inside (ha.) 

“What can I say? I’m a special guy. Death just doesn’t stick like it used to.” He allowed a groan to escape as he stretched the usual post-death soreness from his limbs and enjoyed their winces as he popped every joint in his body. “I die, I live. Kinda my shtick at this point.”

“Jason, you died. Again.” Dick’s voice was soft, and confused, an unspoken question and concern wrapped into one. He exchanged a glance with Tim. Like they were making sure each other knew the statement that had been said multiple times over now. If he didn’t know they were both geniuses in their own rights, Jason would doubt their intelligence.

“Yeah, I did,” he drew out slowly, nodding to affirm the message before picking back up again. He stood up and looked around, hands on hips. “So, did you see who did me in this time?” 

“What do you mean this time?” A hint of coherency returned to Nightwing, voice starting to regain that familiar cut he knew so well. Jason spared him a glance.

“Oh, you know. Little death here, little death there, the usual. Just a regular Tuesday.” He waved it off. “I mean, I know I was shot, but who did it?” Looking around, he couldn’t see an obvious suspect but judging by the hole it had to be a sniper, damn good one too.

“Hood, you’re in shock. Come to the cave and we can run some tests and help you. Alfred’s already on the way, can you just--,” Tim came out with that factual, tight tone that just seemed engineered to get on Jason’s nerves. What could have possibly given the brat the impression that he could boss the Red Hood around? And they involved Alfred?! Dirty move. 

“Well, tell him to turn around. I don’t need no fucking tests and I’m not in shock. Look, it’s not a big deal. I’m gonna ask you one last time: Who. Shot. Me?” This was their third and final chance before a strike out and Jason went killer hunting on his own. Wouldn’t be the first time he couldn’t depend on them for anything. 

“Jason, the blood loss-- you should really--” Dick began like he was trying to corral him into going back to the hellhole. Like he was some wounded animal. Well, Hood had no patience for their tricks.

“Coulda just said you didn’t know. Thanks for nothin’.” He turned and grappled away, immediately ducking into a crime alley backway, waiting as the bats passed him by. Not only was the meetup with Sionis a bust, but he got killed again. He’d have to do some digging. “What a fucking waste of time.”

* * *

Finding the specific sniper was easy once he traced the wire transfers and talked to a few ghost witnesses. Killing the bastard even more so. And taking out the employer? Well, some “persuasion” was all that was needed to nullify that little operation especially now that he could sniff out death like a bloodhound.

Avoiding the bats however? A bit harder. They were like a stubborn mold that just wouldn’t fuck off already. 

Whatever new complex those two picked up that night thankfully had only spread to the girls. Unfortunately though, that meant he was still getting tailed and ambushed by nearly all the bats on a regular basis. It was damn annoying and not to mention, slowing down his work. They all wanted to talk and talk and talk. But they never mentioned his “incident” in the alley. Tiptoed around it like it was some landmine they didn’t have the clearance to dismantle just yet.

But it was somewhat nice to have quality banter on a regular basis again. Even if that banter was antagonistic or trying to lure him in a false sense of security. It gave a reprieve from the intensity of his line of work.

Sometimes it sent him spiralling. They’d mention the Joker or Bruce offhand and he had to leave. Catch his breath. Reset his mind. Remind himself that they weren’t family, that he couldn’t trust them, that he wasn’t safe with them. 

They never followed. It wasn’t that they couldn’t, but they knew they shouldn’t. He’d been explicit in his boundaries and threatened absolute war if crossed. 

Jason didn’t acknowledge the disappointment and emptiness after another breakdown spent alone. He was fine. Thought that maybe them knowing would change things but-- no, he was fine.

Jason was doing good. He was okay. And if he wasn’t, then he would be. He’d be okay. Yeah, he’d be okay. 

He had to be. 

He had to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jason: my mental health is rapidly deteriorating and that's very sexy of me
> 
> and that is the beginning of the end. Don't worry theres a decent chunk left before the end but the full reveal is coming out soon. I still need to figure out how i wanna arrange/do a few things plot wise bc i have a few floating variables so I have to do that b4 next chapter can come out so it might be a little bit longer. Orginally in this chapter I had Jason dying in Dick's arms and that was big sad but it didn't really work timeline wise and i like this better! Don't worry you gluttons I didn't take away that much angst. 
> 
> An implied thing that'll probably be referenced in a future chapter but Alfred was coming with a hearse. Oh! And fun tidbit. I recently had to read Mrs. Dalloway for english and the protagonist committed suicide :) so thats a fun lil easter egg to get into his headspace.
> 
> Anyways! Lmk what u thought! Anything you liked, didn't like, would want to see, whatever's on ya mind. I know some ppl were looking forward to this! Hope it lived up to ur expectations! Thanks so much everyone for almost 100 bookmarks and over 400 kudos!! This fic is by far my most successful and I'm really happy y'all like it so much! Ilysm stay safe and healthy and wear masks.


	8. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various people are concerned and angry in various ways. Dick tries to talk w Jason and fails. Wow! Plot! Now that's rare.

So, apparently some people get “concerned” when you joke about death. Pshh, like all the kids didn’t joke about dying everyday anyways. He just, had some substance behind his punchlines. The trauma adds flavor.

It’d only been maybe two weeks since his last death and the Bats were still on his ass about it. Geez, it was just a little shooting. Happens every day. They’d always bring it up on patrol too. As if that was any place to talk about Jason’s emotions. You had to be 100 percent on in the field or you’d die and they should know that by now. No time for conversations like that or ever, preferably.

He’s considered going back to the mansion. He has. Jason’s pretty sure Alfred misses him. He does, doesn’t he? He has to. Alfred knows he’s alive, right? Oh god, did anybody ever tell him? It’s not like they’ve interacted since before. But, would Alfred be disappointed? Ha, what a joke. Of course he is. Impressionable brat to murderer isn’t exactly a fairy tale ending. 

In truth, Jason just doesn’t want to talk. He can’t talk about it. Not to them, not to anybody. Even admitting it to himself, everything that’s happened. It’s too much. He can’t stop to process because it’d take too long and he’s already on enough borrowed time. 

He should be strong enough to handle this on his own. He is. Look where depending on others and trusting them got him. Kill me once, shame on you. Kill me twice, shame on me. Kill me three times and damn, he’s really got to stop trusting people. 

Okay. So, he’d distanced himself and that had worked fine until Dick got it into his head that his Littlewing just absolutely needed a shoulder to cry on. What a load of bullshit. What Jason really needed was for him to piss off because all these mixed signals were fucking with his head.

Like what did they even fucking want from him? They didn’t care the first time or any of the next eight. 

“If you were a cat, you’d be all out of lives by now,” an honestly lovely housewife from the fifties commented. 

“Yes, thank you, Margaret. What a pleasant thought.” And Jason really tried to put all his effort into dry sarcasm but all she did was smile and try to pat him comfortingly. But he was allergic to comfort and also a badass so he shied away. 

Margaret just smiled.

* * *

They’d been keeping a closer watch on Red H-- Jason. They had him on high alerts for any activity since the false alarm. 

Tim had called it in when he was in the near death state. Because Jason couldn’t have died again. He’d done some research and sometimes certain poisons can make the bodily functions freeze. But it was a wound… though Tim didn’t put it past Jason to fake his own death. Maybe work related but he certainly got enough kicks out of it. 

Of course, he’d reported that it was Jason was still alive and recounted the tale to Bruce’s stern face back in the cave. Dick had been oddly quiet that night. Maybe Tim was the weird one for not being more shaken but it’s not like Jason actually died, right? 

Still it was far too close for comfort. In their line of work near death experiences were just another Tuesday, but well. Jason was getting more reckless everyday and whether he liked it or not, they looked after their own. Once a bat, always a bat. You can’t just erase that.

* * *

Dick is certain his brother died that night. Jason even admitted he died that night. But that was impossible. After showing his body cam footage, even Bruce had gritted out that it was a very convincing corpse. And that’s all his brother’s body was. A convincing corpse. 

Nobody wanted to admit that Jason had actually died and came back again. For one, it was more impossible than the alternative of various blood packs, special effects and poisons they all had experience with. And second, Dick couldn’t consider the possibility of his brother dying without reconciling for the second time. He couldn’t.

* * *

“Your brother is here, dearie.” Margaret was still with him, annoying Jason to the ends of his wits with kindness. Bleh. At least she was a good lookout. He spared her a glance containing a thank you and watched as she just smiled and disappeared into the floors below. 

He was sad to see her go but hopefully he’d find her again. She would have been a nice mom. 

“What do you want, dickface?” Jason was exasperated. They’d been tailing him all week and it was starting to really grate on him. Especially that damn soft expression Dick got that just read PITY and he got enough of that from ghosts who actually knew just how shitty his pseudo-life really is. 

“Can we talk?”

“We are talking, genius.” Dick nodded and led himself over to sit beside Jason looking over the city. 

“This is a good spot. You can almost see a star.” Leaning back, trying to present an open front, looking to the sky, starting with a compliment. All together trying to appear harmless which meant whatever he had to say was anything but.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s a plane.” Jason sighed and turned back to the city. He was too tired for this. “What do you want?”

Dick waited a pregnant pause and drew a breath.

“You didn’t-- You didn’t actually die that night, right? I know it was probably a pretty good fake and that’d be crazy but-- I worry about you. Just put my mind at ease.”

And that. That took Jason by surprise. No thoughts, head empty but he just turned to look at Dick, to really see him, face scrunched with self conscious anxiety, a smile weak and desperate. The night lights softly illuminating his strong features, something he used to look up at with awe once upon a time.

“Littlewing?” Ah, he’d waited too long and the smile dropped, fear entering those eyes. Fuck, he was looking back. Too much emotional connection. Jason let himself drop back on the roof and closed his eyes.

“Are you still on about that, Dick? It’s been almost two weeks.”

“Can you just-- for once, can you be genuine and stop avoiding the question?”

“Wow, really getting to you, huh? Didn’t think you cared.”

“Of course, I care.” Fuck, there was that damn soft pity voice. 

“Funny way of showing it.” 

“Jason,” he said, all chiding-like. They both knew he was just putting off answering. 

“No names in the field, right Nightwing?” Dick sighed and leveled him with a Look. Ah, he hadn’t missed those. Okay, maybe a little. Just a little. 

“Just answer.”

“Do you really need me to say it?” It’s not like he was avoiding saying he died. It’s not exactly a secret but Jason cannot deal with the ensuing, what pity? Concern? They’d get even more up in his grill and they’re already pushing it as is. Besides, it wasn’t their business. 

“Please.” And the way it was said, such vulnerability, so encouraging, it was almost enough to chip away at the cold dead block of ice that Jason had sculpted around himself. The sculpture was a sick castle with a shit ton of gargoyles but that was beside the point. 

Instead, he just laughed a short, harsh bark. 

“I think you already know.” 

And leapt off into the night.

* * *

Dick didn’t follow. He sat and watched his brother grapple away, a terrible feeling of dread sinking into its home in his gut. 

What in the ever loving fuck did that even mean, Jason?? 

Dick blames Bruce for instilling a tendency for emotional constipation and dramatic exits in the whole family but if he chased after now, he’d get on Jason’s bad side and he really needs to get an honest conversation out of that kid. 

It’s tough being an older brother. It really is. At this rate, he’s gonna go gray before B.

* * *

Jason was headed to his usual haunts but something was off. Damn it, this was why they didn’t talk about feelings in the field. He couldn’t focus and there was something off here and they really didn’t believe him? What was he even supposed to make of that? But he couldn’t think about that right now. Unpack all that later. 

He had to focus. 

Focus. 

Wait, shit. Shit. 

Where are the ghosts? There should be ghosts floating around. At least his regulars, where are they? It’s so empty and quiet and--

His helmet malfunctioned. Badly. The world glitched and smoke and white hot pain and then. 

Then nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dick: genuine emotion  
> jason: you know what? I am gonna leave
> 
> Well hi! So a lot has happened since I last updated but here's another one! I think I can wrap this up in maybe 4 more chapters? Maybe?? this chap isn't exactly what I wanted but I haven't written in a while and I'm a lil rusty. so sorry to leave this on a cliff hanger but set up for next time :) anywaysss i love yall tysm for 600+ kudos!! i die. feel free to drop a comment anything you liked, wanna see, or change. Next chap honestly idk I just started college classes this week but I will try to be quicker this time!! also ive just decided now that there will be a happy ending because us depressed bitches need that okay hope you enjoyed


	9. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason undergoes torture (not graphic). Batfam goes in for the rescue! And unexpected old man arrives!

Reports of a small explosion was nothing new to Gotham. Oracle had seen it all before, usually was some kid messing with things they shouldn’t. Maybe a bad accident. Either way it normally wouldn’t warrant her full attention. 

But then again cameras had been looping or going offline all together in various parts of the city. Couple that with the league activity they’d been seeing recently and it was not a pretty picture.

She tapped into the main comm channel. 

“Minor explosion detected in Crime Alley and all feeds nearby are down. Can somebody get eyes on the scene? Nigtwing, you’re closest.”

Static crackled as Nightwing popped in, wind whistling past him. 

“En route now. Bout 3 minutes out. Can you reach Hood? ‘Said he was heading that way earlier.”

She paused her trouble shooting. Fuck. That should have been her first thought. Switching monitors, she brought up Jason’s emergency feed. Offline. She checked other points of contact and nothing. 

“No. Hood is offline.” She thought she heard a quiet curse but couldn’t be sure who it came from.

A few moments passed as she worked to regain live feeds one by one. Dick came again, an uncharacteristic worry wrapping around his voice.

“Requesting backup to my location. No current threats but I’ve determined the cause of the explosion.”

“Well?” Batman’s gravely voice budged in. 

“Hood’s helmet. Or the debris of it at least. Doesn’t look good.” He paused to draw a breath, whether angry or worried could not be conveyed over comms. “Damn it, Jason.”

* * *

Pain. He feels pain so he’s not dead. At least not yet. Probably. 

But it is awfully dark and he feels like shit so maybe he is dead? Wait, there’s talking. Almost too muffled but yeah, that’s Arabic alright. Not like he could forget the damn language after his lovely stay with the League. 

Wait. They wouldn’t-- Jason peaked open an eye, wincing at the light and goddamn it. Fucking League lackeys again. And are they the same ones as last time? 

Hold on. Yep. 

Of course. That’s just perfect. What a day. If it even is the same day. He groaned and rolled back his shoulders. No use just sitting around waiting for them to notice he’d awoken. Might as well get the interrogation on and see what the hell they want. Normally he’d just escape but he was tired of running for once. 

At the noise, they turned their attention back from whatever little huddle they had. 

“Jason Todd. Are you prepared to answer our questions honestly?” He grit his teeth at the sound of the old trigger. So they were going to play dirty. Fine. They just lost their Arabic privileges. It’s just rude to use someone’s past brainwashing against them. 

“Wait, you say something? What language is that?”

“Stop fooling around. We know you speak Arabic,” a woman cut in. He waited a tid after she finished speaking, really driving home the clueless vibe before shaking his head and shrugging. 

“Yeah, nope. Got none of that. Maybe German? Do any of you speak that? Or maybe Spanish? I can keep going. Chinese anyone?,” he finished with a smile. 

The lackeys exchanged glances, seemingly coming to a consensus. 

“This can go two ways. Things can get very unpleasant for you or we can enjoy the pleasantness.”

He paused to consider the options. Escape would just cause them to go after him again and he’d like to get more info out of these guys before he got rid of them. But torture historically wasn’t one of Jason’s favorite activities.

Okay new plan. Fuck with them as much as possible then escape when things start to get hairy. Maybe even get out some pent up aggression on the way out. Easy peasy. 

“I think I’m allergic to both of those. Can I get a third option?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” He paused and considered again. Yeah this could be fun. “What were my options again?”

“Hard way then.”

* * *

“What do you mean Ra’s is in Gotham?” You’d really think Bruce would have the ability to take in information without questioning it for once but maybe Tim’s being too generous. 

“What do you think I mean?? Ra’s is in Gotham!” He snapped back, tired of having to repeat himself. Honestly, couldn’t B just take his word for once. 

“Why’s he here then?” Dick cut in worried. And that. That Tim didn’t know. He’d been a little too focused tracking down the League’s digital footprint. He shrugged and kept typing.

“Todd’s still missing.” Wow. Demon Brat was actually observant for once. Baby’s first. 

“What’s the connection there?” Stephanie piped up. “I mean, Ra’s targeting Damian or Tim, that just makes sense, but Jason? Am I missing something?”

“No, it is unusual.” There was Bruce’s serious thinking voice. “He’s had a few run ins with the League, but never anything intensive enough for Ra’s to take interest.” 

“Are you all just stupid or ignorant? Todd was trained and housed by the League for several years.”

And that. That they had not known. But it would explain some things. Like where he’d been for the past three years and how he was revived. 

“How do you--” 

“Same movement,” Cass broke in, gesturing a League style claw. Damian nodded, crossing his arms.

“Yes. I lived there as well. I saw him training.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, forgive me for assuming you had basic knowledge of your adoptive son’s life. I just got here,” Damian finished snidely. Batman grumbled, feathers clearly ruffled by the comment. And the boy shrunk a little, clamming up. 

“So, there’s our connection,” Dick stepped in, pushing past the tense atmosphere. “We can figure out motivations later. Jason’s still missing, presumably injured and either pursued or captured by the League. What are our leads?”

“The helmet.” 

“Right, how are ballistics coming, Alfred?”

“Almost done, sir,” Alfred replied evenly.

* * *

Sometimes when you haven’t tried something in a while, if you try it again, you might like it! 

This was not one of those times. Torture fucking sucks. It sucked then and sucks now.

Especially waterboarding. Like what sadistic fuck decided to take such a cleansing, pure, fun thing as water and make it evil. Fuck water. He’d already drowned once and that was enough for him. 

“Last chance, Jason. Be honest.” 

“And you’re still fucking using Arabic! Honestly! There is etiquette for torture! Etiquette!” But, well. It honestly just made it easier to kill them when he escapes. 

‘Jason, a creepy old guy is coming down the hall. He smells like shit and looks like a moldy apple,’ 90’s ghost kid spoke, head poking out of the wall. He gave a nod and internally sighed. Fucking Ra’s. 

“Look kid, I appreciate that you’ve stuck around with me but this isn’t gonna be pretty. Scramble already.” The assassins stopped in confusion briefly but it wasn’t the first time he was talking to the kid. Probably thought it was a hallucination but whatever. Torture was easier with friends but he really didn’t wanna traumatize this kid anymore than he had already. 

‘Course the kid just stuck out his tongue and dived back into the wall. 

Then in true dramatic old bitch fashion, Ra’s threw the doors open and stared down into their little party scene. Woo! Surprise! It’s a torture. At least the waterboarding stopped for them to bow to him. 

“Any results?” His voice was just as crusty as the rest of him. Old shit should just die already, though he really wasn’t one to talk. Seems a few foreign spirits had followed the old man, didn’t look like any of them had died in a pleasant way. Okay, yeah maybe he can use that.

“None, sir. Key phrases remain useless and a sample has been collected.” Ugh, he’s going to have to recover that later. Life is so much fun. 

“Hey, I hate to be That American. But can we stop with the Arabic? It’s getting old, like you.” Ba dum tiss. Burn. Good one, Jason. Everyone had paused for a moment, staring at him, then continued on. Probably because it was such a good pun. Yeah, that’s why. 

Blah blah blah. More shit about how uncooperative he’d been, boohoo. Poor interrogators failing at their jobs. Whatever, Jason didn’t really care. He’d been in this damn chair for over an hour and was now wet. Ra’s better get on with it. 

He jolted when he felt the hands on him again but turned to see it was the 90’s ghost boy again, tapping his shoulder. Alright. Ghosts touching him was a thing now. Okay. Sure. Who gives a fuck.

‘What’s up with that guy? He reeks of death and not in the good way.’

“Killer since the dinosaurs. Just keeps putting death off with a fucked up form of Botox.” He paused and took a moment to sniff and yep, kid was right. “Oof, like rancid roadkill.” The kid tapped his nose excitedly and nodded.

“Excuse me?” And great, now Ra’s was right in front of him. The smell was even stronger. 

“No, you’re not excused. You should consider a new deodorant because whatever you have clearly isn’t working.” The shocked look on his face was well worth the torture. Ha, stinky man. 

And then the discreet sniff! The look to the lackeys for confirmation! Poetic cinema! Jason had to take the small joys in his life where he could get them. 

Ra’s shook his head and refocused, eyes cold as ever. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

“Care to fill me in?”

“Even you aren’t this dumb.”

“And yet I continue to defy expectations. Really your lackeys haven’t been very clear. After all, I don’t speak Arabic.” Al Ghul just sighed and continued,

“You died.” Ra’s raised eyebrow was impatient but Jason wasn’t done playing dumb yet. This had been a huge pain in the ass, the least he could do is return the favor.

“Yeah? Kinda old news, buddy.” Ra’s pinched the bridge of his nose, probably praying for patience. Well, grab some for Jason too. Talking to old cishet people was exhausting. 

“You died again. And again. And again. If you recall, I frequent the Pits. You, however, seem to have found the secret to immortality in a much more, hm, sustainable, manner. What I want to know is how?”

Yeah, normally he’d continue the bit but that was pretty damning. The League did kill him that one time. Well, normally he wouldn’t mind talking about it. Probably would be nice to get an outside perspective to be honest but Ra’s was a dick, and not his Dick. 

“No, I didn’t.” Probably the strongest denial in the book. Try to combat that one, old fart. 

“Yes, you did,” a lackey burst out. Ooh, Jason had to wince. That’d be at least forty lashes when they got back to base. Ra’s held up a hand.

“I’d be skeptical myself, but we’ve been keeping a close eye on you since my agents claim to have killed you. Strange interactions with air, frequent visits to random graves, and too many nonstrategic fake deaths for it to be entirely fake. Though that’s why I’m here today. To verify.” Jason did not like the sound of that. That made it sound like they were going to kill him. And probably keep killing him for ‘research’ purposes. Which wasn’t very fun in his book.

“So, would you like to die before or after you reveal your secrets to me?”

* * *

Thanks to Tim’s and Oracle’s quick maths and a little slip up, the Bat family was on the way in full force. 

Jason, however, did not know this and was not expecting a rescue. So while he was freaking the fuck out internally and trying to jimmy his restraints with the help of 90s kid, Batman in his full regalia crashed through the ceiling light and Jason lost his place, surprised from the intrusion. Several smaller Bats came through, some hanging in the rafters while others joined Batman on the floor. 

He’d almost be touched if he weren’t so surprised. Genuinely what. Why would they-- No, can’t be a rescue. They must have been tracking the League. 

Of course, Ra’s took it with grace, merely spinning around Jason and quickly putting a blade at his throat. Great, so cross off being a hostage on today’s bingo sheet. And now we have a classic standoff. All of the Bats paused, more tense than before, which, again would be sweet if he didn’t know for a fact that not one of them cared if he lived or died. 

“Greetings, Detectives. Grandson. Others.” 

“Release him, al Ghul.” Ra’s levelled Batman with a stare. Jason just snorted. Did he really think that line would work. Would Ra’s just be like ‘oh, right, sorry about that, here let me just release you because he asked so nicely.’

“Hm, perhaps you would be willing to make a deal then. Surely you have an understanding of this boy’s apparent ability to defy all known laws of nature.” 

“It’s just my charm,” Jason choked out before feeling the blade cut in deeper. Worth it. The Bats tensed further if that were possible. Seemed like the lackeys were holding a defensive position around Ra’s.

“For once, shut up, Todd.” Ah Damian. The little shit. Tim’s eye roll was almost audible. Jason just responded with a shit eating grin. 

“You don’t want to kill him, Ra’s,” Dick tried, ever the mediator. Unexpectedly serious though. What, it’s not like Jason dying meant anything before. 

“I think I do. I can and I will. That is, unless you can deliver me what I want.”

Timbo finally spoke, “What information do you want specifically, Ra’s?”

“No need to keep toeing the issue. He dies and then lives. Repeatedly. I want to know how.” Ugh, he could feel Dick’s gaze weigh down on him and very pointedly ignored any sort of guilt or eye contact with the man. Or with any of them really. The floor suddenly seemed very interesting.

“He died three years ago--”

“Yes, I’m well aware. He revived himself after six months and was restored in the Pits. It is not that unusual. What is unusual is the repeated instances of dying and subsequent revivals with no Pit usage and little to no drawbacks.”

Ra’s stood expectantly for an answer but it seemed to be new information to the Bats. They just stood there, masking their shock, which, couldn’t be because they knew already. That whole time in the alley, they had to know. The warehouse, the batarang. They had to know. It wasn’t a question if they did know or not because how could they not?!

Tim recovered the quickest. “You know, there’s ways to fake--”

“I’m not here for your cover ups. I want answers. You will give them to me or I will find them myself.” This was fucking worse than the torture. Jason finally had enough and cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself.

“If I may?” He began very politely. Alfred would be proud. All eyes rested on him as he looked up at al Ghul and said, “Get fucked.” 

And the knife sliced through his skin, tracing the batarang scar almost exactly. Ah, memories. 

Then, all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ra's: tell me how to be immortal  
> Jason: no ❤️. If I died. No I don’t die because I did. No I didn’t.
> 
> First off thank you all so much for your comments and kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions! I'm really thankful and you inspire me!! (Literally, quite often.) Big props the comment section. Righto so this chapter was supposed to go farther than just this but i felt this was a good stop point and wanted to get it out sooner. Anyways Ra's is prbbly ooc but do i care? no. Fun fact! The chapters where jason dies has death in the title for easy navigation. So no, he is not dead in this or the last chapter. As for the batfam being kinda ignorant it's kinda just an oversight on their part/strained tensions/etc/adds drama. cool cool cool. idk what else to say Prepare For Angst next chap? Bad assery to be continued? Death incoming? Uh, i finally figured out the whole plot so thats fun. shouldn't be as much as a wait next time. Love yall!! Dont forget to drop a kudo, comment, uhh you know the drill. Stay safe


	10. Death 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Jason dies. Big shocker. Decisions sure are made. Good decisions? Well, no. Why would anybody in this story ever make a good decision? 
> 
> tw/ suicidal thoughts and behaviors. somewhat graphic description of violence

The cut hurt. Like really, godamn fucking hurt. 

There was shouting and fighting all around but that didn’t matter. The world slowed and that’s all he could think is the hurt and blood and the Batarang coming closer and closer and that damn laugh again and he couldn’t breathe, choking on blood and--

And then it didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt at all. 

‘Jason!! Snap out of it! I can’t do this alone!’ A voice came resounding from all around. The kid. Oh god, it was the kid. 

He snapped back into focus, into control of his body, hand going to his neck reflexively. (Wait, he was free?) The amount of blood painting his hand usually meant he was well on his way to dying but that was just fine by him. Best fighters were always those with nothing left to lose.

Ra’s was suddenly on him whipping the knife around in a way that made Jason very aware that he was a) unarmed b) injured and c) so very fucking tired of this bullshit.

He tried to back up to avoid the slashes but oh shit. There definitely hadn’t been that many ghosts before, effectively cornering him in an arena of violence. They surrounded him on all sides voices adding to the cacophony crying out for death, Death, D E A T H. 

The knife cut deep into the arm he raised for a block and while Jason winced instinctively, he didn’t register any pain. Adrenaline probably, he can use that. 

Grinning at the prospect of a real fight, a chance to feel alive, to get hurt, to die, he pushed forward past the knife to deck Ra’s who made a quick step back but Jason wasn’t giving up. 

He could almost feel the energy of the ghost jury screaming for an execution behind him. This was exhilarating. A roaring crowd for his death match. How long had it been? Jason couldn’t hold back a hungry smile.

Ra’s managed another decent slice but Jason’s assault kept him on the run. Each step he took he could feel his power grow. His ever marching absolute rage encompass all. His righteousness. Revenge and justice so intertwined they were indistinguishable.

The human pile of feces took a look behind Jason but that was a mistake. There was no bigger threat to this man’s existence than Jason himself. With the distraction, he swept Ra’s to the floor, stealing away the knife in a fluid motion. Normally he’d make some sort of pun here but his mind was a hurricane awash with turbulence, flying debris, and a livid coldness.

The ghosts’-- their shared vicious delight reached new heights as he began the drive to finally end this pathetic man’s life. Diving into his ribcage over and over so close as his hand ran to Ra’s chest and-- bashed aside by a batarang, a FUCKING batarang, knocking the knife out of his grasp, more blood leaking from his soon-to-be/long-overdue-corpse. The static in the air crescendoed.

He turned to yell at the Bat further but Ra’s slipped to start fleeing. That Could Not Happen. The Reaper had come to collect and he would fulfill the debt. 

“You will Face me!” He chased after him, completely ignoring any shouts from the Bat clan. Following the trail of blood and the scent of desperation like a hellhound. 

Ra’s managed to make it to a hallway when Jason caught up, angry spirits ushering him like white water rapids. 

“Surely you must be on the brink of death, boy. Make this easy for me and let go,” Ra’s implored as he pointed the statement with a swing. The poltergeists surrounded the scene, growing taller and louder by the second. 

“You first.” By all means, he should be panting, should be in immense pain, so tired that he can barely think but it’s as if all his senses were plunged in ice water. He’d never felt more awake, more alive.

Suddenly another knife flew at him from Ra’s hand. Not again. He moved to deflect it but fuck, now was not the time for a flash back, shit--

The spirits came flooding in through the momentary lapse in presence. 

Jason was now More. More than one, more than himself. A gleeful wrath chilled his core, so hot it might break him. A cacophony of nothingness filled his skull to the brim, both more alive and dead than he’d ever been. 

He held a hand to stop the dagger with a disconnect, like watching through an old TV. It paused its trajectory, stopped mid air. 

The floor left his feet absently and he pondered the throwing dagger floating in his palm. How poetic. The man, who’d forced Jason to begin killing, would die by the direct consequences of his own actions. The knife, Jason, returned his own malignance fourfold. And Jason did so love poetry.

He registered the remaining spirits surrounding Ra’s, bloodthirsty and blood coated. The man in question finally seemed to be able to see all who he had killed and paled considerably. Now didn’t that make something in Them just curl up in delight. 

The face of a man who knew his death was imminent. Revenge for pain compiled over thousands of life times. A fear earned well over. 

The veil between life and death was now very thin indeed. If he squinted, Jason could almost see into the other realm. Ra’s seemed paralyzed, wrinkles deepening and color draining as if life itself was draining out of him. It probably would if Jason let him be for a moment longer but he deserved a more painful death. 

Ra’s had earned it. And his victims were here to pay it back in full. 

“Please…” the husk of a man croaked out. 

“This Karma Is Long Overdue.” The knife launched through the air like a bullet, stopping just short of the chest. Ra’s looked up in hope and Jason just smiled with sick satisfaction before driving it in, slowly, forcefully, twisting down, watching as Ra’s face was gripped in beautiful fear and pain and then nothing at all. 

A deep itch in their collective souls was scratched as they watched his reign of terror end. The last bits of that monster drip into the afterlife. A promise finally fulfilled.

And just like that the vibrant fervor that had filled his body dispersed. Spirit after spirit dissolved and the cacophony finally quieted. And Jason just felt so, so very tired. 

When his feet touched the floor again, he collapsed into a heap, every ounce of pain coming back fourfold. He could feel his cells slow, his blood still, and finally, Jason could rest. 

Only then did the voices of his family reach him but Jason was already fading off. He smiled and let himself fall.

* * *

They watched Jason fall. He was floating surrounded by what, screaming ghosts? It seemed as if reality itself was flickering.The awful blue aura was finally starting to fade as they watched Jason’s body collapse in a dead heap. 

That was probably one of the worst moments in Dick’s life. To see his little brother possessed, having the life drain out of him in bliss, in rage. And three years later, he still couldn’t save him in time. 

The night passed in a blur. Rushing to the Batcave, trying to save Jason’s (second? third?) life in vain. It didn’t really register. 

The world was both at a standstill and faster than light itself.

* * *

“So, when am I going back this time?” 

“You Want To Go Back?”

“Not really, it’s just been a while and normally I’m back by now. Just wondering what’s the hold up here.”

“The Line Between Life And Death Is Not A Jump Rope, Jason.”

“So you can use my name” he grumbled before jumping on the rest, “and just what the hell do you mean by that? Is being cryptic just fun for you?”

“Yes.” Bitch. “Your Soul Cannot Take Another Return Passage Here. The Burden Grows Greater Even Now.”

“Well, fuck. Not really that I’m complaining, but shit. So what, I stay here, dead forever with you? Ha, no thanks. What’s my other options?” It seemed reluctant but Jason just tapped his foot until it finally spoke.

“You May Cross Back To The Living But You Will Not Return Here Again.”

“Wait, what. What does that mean? ‘You will not return’? Huh? Would I be immortal?”

“No. You Would Cease.”

“Cease? Just cease? Like really die?”

“Yes.”

“No afterlife? No haunting? No eternal consciousness?”

“Correct.” Seems like a dream and a curse. The true last slumber. 

“So I just need to die one more time and I’ll be gone forever?” Almost seemed too good to be true after this limbo between life and death. Felt like he was in his very own twilight zone episode. 

“...Yes.” Was it sad? Could glow worms feel sadness? Or was Jason just reading into it, projecting the hope that someone might care if he died. No, that’s pathetic. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need someone to care. 

“Aw, don’t tell me you got attached? And here I thought we were bitter enemies.” Well, best way to bat off any emotions was with a joke. 

“...No. It Is Always A Shame For A Soul To Wear Out.” And that stirred something in his heap of buried and burned emotions. Fuck, gotta deflect harder. 

“Even a shitty one like mine, huh?” He laughed out in a sardonic grin. Nothing like a little self depreciation to take the edge off of essentially committing soul suicide.

“Yes. Even You Have A Place Reserved. You Will Be Missed. By Death And All Who Will Reside There.” 

All who will die and have died already. Their faces flashed in front of his eyes. 

His mom. Dick. Roy. Artemis. Bizarro. Bruce. Alfred. Dr. Thompson. Cass. Barbara. Duke. Steph. Damian. Tim. Talia. Ra’s. Harley. Willis. Joker. Joker. Joker, never able to escape that sick piece of shit. He can’t-- Jason can’t stand the thought of that. Of being in the same place. Never being free of the torment. That damn fucking laugh echoing around his head, bouncing off the walls and redoubling and Hell NO. 

Not a fucking chance. Someone might be sad somewhere. Probably. His mom or team maybe but god damn it, he can’t stand the thought of staying like this, struggling like this forever. It’s unbearable, makes his skin crawl, like the crowbar’s coming down, drowning a thousand times over in blood and blood and blood. And-- Jason just can’t. 

It’s such an easy decision. They’d understand. If they really loved him, they’d understand. Probably would be better off for everyone involved. 

He tries to feel any sort of remorse. Any guilt at throwing his eternal soul away. He really does look within himself, anything to care, anything that might make him reconsider or cause him to pause and there’s, there’s just nothing. 

Jason’s hollow. Not numb, just empty. Not listless, in fact he’s more present than he’s been in years. And it seems like the obvious conclusion. Of course this is where it all would lead he realizes with a distant clarity. It isn’t even a choice anymore.

“No take backs this time I guess. I had a good run. Caused some chaos, kicked ass, we all had a few good laughs. I think I’m well past my warranty, don’t you? Go ahead and send me back. I’ll be out of your hair for good.” Though did it have hair? It was kinda just fuzzy at the edges, hard to tell. 

“If That Is What You Desire.”

“I-- Yeah, it really is. Haven’t I done enough already? Can’t I just be done?” He spoke so earnestly, so tired, so-- so quiet. It wasn’t like him. That’s why he had to end it. Wasting away until he was just a husk? Yeah, no thanks. Always said if he’d starting going like Catherine he’d just do it. Basically was just euthenasia anyways.

It waited a long time before speaking up again. Jason had enough time to collect himself back to the relative comfort of void.

“...You Wish To Return Then.”

“Yeah. I’m--I’m done.” He took a shuddering breath. “Just send me back already so I can kill myself and get this over with, alright? Just-- let me-- I’m done.”

It didn’t respond. They just sat there for a while. Jason basking in his newfound fate, his decision. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything beyond a weird mix of relief and apprehension and self pity. 

Relief that this sick reality he was in would finally be over. The slurried mix of life and death would relent to the final ending, a sort of comfort. 

Apprehension that it was just another twisted joke the universe liked to play on him. Scared to get his hopes up, that he might keep living despite the creature’s promise. 

Pity that he could never just be happy. Not once. Fighting all his life and never knew peace and he was so fucking tired of fighting. 

And in the end, he felt nothing at all. He was at peace with what would come next. 

Finally, after it seemed like decades of silence and stillness and blank thoughts, Jason allowed himself to feel the familiar tug of the living. 

He turned to the creature for a final goodbye but found himself lacking the words. He spared a small slip of regret for those he would be leaving behind.

“Tell them I’m sorry, okay?” It nodded slowly. 

“Goodbye, Jason.” The bastard managed to convey such a sifting heaviness in two words. Just somewhere between sadness, longing, regret, resignation. The swirl of emotions clogging his throat and it was all too much. What it all equated to was a deep intrinsic sense of gratitude. 

“Thank You.” And Jason didn’t think he’d ever meant it so thoroughly as he did now. 

His connection finally wore out. The burden lifted.

* * *

A week and no change. Jason was dead. Still, again? For the second (?) time. Not that they could really be sure of that. 

The manor had been somber. The body really should have been buried. But-- the hope that Jason would come back lingered over their heads. The days passed silently. 

The body didn’t reanimate just as it didn’t rot. It seemed as if Jason was simply in stasis from when his soul left. The same injuries just as fresh. He just laid sleeping in the medbay, a flat line blare put on silent. 

Alfred had been in and out of the room, carrying on when everyone else couldn’t. Any emotional intelligence the bats once possessed had been shut down. 

Bruce himself was torn. His therapist recommended burying the body sooner rather than later but Jason was-- he wouldn’t allow himself to make the same mistake twice. And so they waited, dead body stiff, the elephant in the room, on the table.

“Master Bruce? Perhaps it would be best for you to retire to your chambers for now.”

“I… Yes,” he sighed, “yes, you’re right.” He lugged his aching body toward the door, pausing at the frame to call back towards Alfred. “You’ll grab me if he wakes?” 

“Of course, Master Bruce.” 

“Thank you, Alfred.” He held the gaze and nodded, stealing a last gaze at Jason’s corpse.

“Of course.” The old man watched as Bruce dragged himself out of the medbay and up the stairs. Finally, he turned to the body, Jason. “Master Jason, you should really return to us soon. I don’t know how much more this family can take.” 

Alfred restocked the IV bags and adjusted the surrounding area while he continued to monologue to Jason, “We do miss you, Master Jason. It’s been far too long since you’ve been in here. Why, I do believe you were 14 at the time, just after a nasty encounter with the Penguin.” 

He chuckled, “You were such a little rascal then. I suppose not much has changed, though you never visited me. Tsk. Shame, I could have made your favorite. I don’t suppose you would wake up for a promise of cookies, would you?” There was a pause to wait for any answer, culminating with a sigh. 

“Rather not then. I’ll have to find something more enticing then, sir.”

* * *

“Todd, revive already if you’re going to. This suspense is unbecoming.”

“Spirits exist, you must send a message if you are truly deceased.” Damian paused to look around for the message, folding his arms and tapping his foot. He waited a full minute before stomping off. 

“Tt. Fine. Hurry up already.”

* * *

A hoarse screaming was heard again, barely audible amongst the disturbance in the footage. The static slowly died down as the image cleared to see the Bats rush to the collapsed pile of flesh that was Jason. Their desperate voices calling out to it, checking vitals, calling Agent A in urgency and all for nothing. Jay was still dead.

“Tim, please,” someone pleaded for what must have been the fifth time. He made no indication he’d heard it. 

The body cam footage looped again. It played over and over and over and showed the same damn thing. It became too staticy to understand what was being said or even seen. Flashes of color, bursts of things that could vaguely resemble what they’d experienced that night.

It didn’t make sense. Tim had been up almost nonstop, doing research, recasing the area, rewatching the botched footage. And It Still Didn’t Make Sense. 

He was missing something. Something obvious. He had to keep looking. 

All the logs of Red Hood’s activity since he first came back. Recent league activity. A few tabs on mortality. More than a few conversations with the League’s magic users, anybody remotely spiritual or close to something like this. Whatever it was. He would figure this out dammit. He had to. 

Jason wasn’t back and he wouldn’t give up yet. Last time, he’d taken it too liberally. Never again. Tim wouldn’t allow himself to fail Jason again. 

He sipped his coffee and resumed his research.

* * *

And this last time, he was ready. No anger, no apprehension. Just an overwhelming sense of peace, of being complete. In fact, he was almost even excited!

Jason breathed deep and opened his eyes, well rested to begin the final step on his road to absolution. Allowing life to fill his doomed soul once more. 

Duke was in the room, looking up startled from an outdated magazine Alfred kept around. 

“Hey--” And with that, the next five minutes was uncontrolled chaos as the rest of the Batclan came barging through the door in a stream of various states of disarray and disfunction. Seeing them so relieved and concerned sparked distant confusion, anger, and partial guilt. 

But emotion made Jason uncomfortable and there was no need to get all up in stupid feelings again. This was his last life after all! He wouldn’t let something like guilt or caring get in the way of his good mood. 

So, Jason did what he did best. 

He grinned and bit out with a laugh, silencing all their calls of worry and comfort, 

“What, did’ja miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone: ahaha no jason dont kill urself ur too sexy  
> jason: *currently committing soul slip n slide* my what?
> 
> wow! who could have seen that one coming? me. i did. i wrote this :). hope you enjoyed! i hope my action writing and emotional writing wasn't too shitty and that there was sufficient humor? i tried. uh, lmk if it was okay? casual reminder that its kinda an unreliable narrator sitch here so some holes will be filled in later. I've been toying w this one for a while, there's so many of you now kinda feel the pressure to make sure its up to standard haha but! will i update faster? no. College is ass. I don't recommend it. 
> 
> well! lmk what you thought/felt! tysm for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions and i d i e. im really glad yall like it sm! Next chapter should be out in maybe a month? maybe? midterms aren't fun but i'll try my best to get it out. You all inspire and encourage me so again! thank you!! stay safe! wear your masks! don't forget to take care of your mental health!!


	11. Cooped Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Local teen is emotionally unstable after traumatic events. 
> 
> Featuring: ghost cat, sedation, and a lack of communication <3

He was petting a cat. 

Something was off about this cat. She was cold and fluffy and Jason honestly couldn’t tell what was wrong. 

She was purring, sitting on his lap nuzzling into his side. Couldn’t get his eyes to focus enough to read her collar but it let out a soft jingle every so often. He could tell she was a dull orange though. Like a pumpkin. Jason liked pumpkins. 

“--son? Are you ready for your evening meal?” He lolled his head to the voice. It was old. Friendly. Familiar. Family. 

“Alfie.” The name stumbled out through a soft smile. 

“Yes.” 

“Alf, hey. Alfie. --id you know, Alfie?”

“Know what, Master Jason?”

“That I wa--ain’t dead. D’djou kno?” Even in his haze, Jason needed to know. Because if Alfie knew then, then. 

“Yes, I did.” Then Alfred could have seen Jason anytime. And he didn’t. Because he chose not to.

“Oh. Did they tell you who killed me, Alfie?” 

“I imagine they did.” The old voice sighed. “Let’s not dwell on such matters for now. I’ve got your dinner. Do you think you can handle some broth?” Jason nodded absently. “That’s my boy. Arms up, please. I’ve got to set the tray.” His pride at the compliment was quickly dashed. The pumpkin cat was in his lap, he couldn’t put the tray down on the cat!

“No. No space here. ‘S gonna hurt her,” he slurred, slowly patting the cat’s backside in emphasis. 

“Master Jason? Who?” The voice sounded concerned. Alfred looked around the room slowly. You never knew with these kids.

“The cat.”

“Mistress Selina isn’t here.” 

“Duh. No, cat is right here. Soft, here feel.” He made a point to delve his fingers deeper into the pet. It began to purr in response. Jason paused in wonder at the fluttery sound. Like a mini motorcycle. Alfred appraised the motion and seemed to come to a conclusion on his own. A wrong conclusion. 

“I see. Perhaps I should come back at a later time then.” Jason just hummed, finally giving up the fight of keeping his eyes open. “Do get some rest, sir.” 

Alfred left the medbay with a lingering glance, turning off the lights. 

Jason waited a while in darkness. Something so familiar. A scene he’d lived (died?) many times over. This time he had a cat though. That was an improvement. 

He drifted in and out of consciousness for well, time didn’t exactly have meaning anymore, did it?

“Kitty, they killed me, kitty. Why’s he still workin’ f’r ‘em.” The cat just headbutted his chest and he let his hand glide over her cold fluff once more, working the fur in a repetitive motion that put them both to sleep.

* * *

Any other time in the cave and Jason’d have mixed feelings. Probably still did but he was repressing that shit hard. 

Something about their damn expressions set something off inside him. It made him squirm and not in a good way. 

Normally being in the cave meant-- well, it used to mean home, safety. That you were done with patrol and could rest or more often than not especially towards the end and beginning: get yelled at by D--Bruce. 

There were lots of memories here, but that was then. 

That was when he was Robin, when he was still a kid. That was before he fucking died. Over and over again. Before he became a murderer. Nothing could ever be the same. Already he’d seen more than a few changes, that fucking case and a few new uniforms alongside it too. 

They finally got a couch. That was new. Bout time. Looked like some new computer upgrades because god forbid the Bat have anything but the latest tech. The bats, the literal ones, were still the same. Cave was still drafty. Some things didn’t change.

But in the familiarity he only found himself more alienated. He didn’t belong here. God it was stifling just being back. He hated the looks in their eyes, the fucking what pity? Regret? Fuck the bats. He just wanted to leave. 

They did their preliminary tests and came up with nothing. Wow. Who would have guessed that. 

Did it really matter why it happened? Jason was tired of their questions. All that mattered was that it wouldn’t happen again. He thought Bruce just liked to hear himself talk. 

The worst thing is that he couldn’t bring himself to hate any of them. If he never--If Joker hadn’t-- this would be his family. But they weren’t. He didn’t belong here and he needed to leave and they wouldn’t let him go. 

And god, Jason couldn’t count all the times in the past three years how he wished to come back. To be welcomed back. 

All the times he was rejected so absolutely that he gave up any hope. Talia, Tim, Bruce, Dick.

Fuck. 

Gotta love that timing. 

It’s not that his “accommodations” as they liked to call it, weren’t comfortable. No, the opposite actually. And after shitty beds and living on the run, it was too comfortable. He felt like he did when he first came to live here and that made it even worse. 

The memory foam was unfamiliar and felt like the damn thing was trying to trap him. The manor itself was just as he remembered but changed just enough to never let him forget that he had no place here. That they had moved on without him. 

The occupants were a lot like that too. All of them seemed like they were tiptoeing around him, like he could break or lash out at any second. Well, Jason certainly felt explosive (ba dum tiss.)

Most of them, he’d never interacted with outside of the field. No real reason to and Jason’d tried to keep his distance, rightfully so. Damian, Cass, Duke, Stephanie, even Tim. He’s not sure any of them had ever even seen him unmasked before now. At least not through old portraits.

And well, Bruce, Dick, Barb, and Alfred, they knew him as a kid. But hell of a lot happened and puberty hit him like a dump truck after the Pits. Or maybe it just cured the malnourishment, who cares. Things were different now. 

All that to say, it was fuckin’ awkward in the Bats’ nest.

* * *

“Jason?”

“Mm, yeah?”

“Can’t you just try to get along with your family?”

“Shut up, Martha.”

“Jason.”

“Sorry, ma’am… Tell Bruce to stop being an asshole and I’ll consider it.”

“Language! But, I’ll try.”

He snorted and looked back at the camera in the corner refocusing on him and gave a wave. Maybe if he acted crazy enough they’d just send him to Arkham already. At least then he could breakout and have some semblance of freedom.

* * *

They wanted answers and Jason didn’t have any to give. That didn’t stop them from asking every five seconds. 

“Would you please take this seriously for once?”

“Oh, so the man who LARPs as a bat and beats up criminals instead of going to therapy is going to lecture me about being serious.” Oooh, that got a long silence. Even the sound of sparring stilled for a moment before continuing. Great to know the tradition of eavesdropping hasn’t stopped.

“...I am. Going to therapy I mean. Ever since yo-- ever since Ethiopia.” And just what the hell was he supposed to say to that?! Congrats on coping mechanisms? Thanks for what, grieving his death apparently? Wow, Bruce Wayne is a human, who woulda thought. 

“Musta been a cold day in hell,” Jason snapped back. Bruce actually cracked a small smile at that. What the actual fuck was happening right now. When did he get self aware?

“Actually we heard there was a blizzard.” He snorted before forcing a frown on. No. No. He doesn’t get to banter with Jason. He doesn’t get to act like they’re all buddy buddy. Bruce doesn’t get to erase what he did to Jason.

Jason sat back, decidedly not engaging. The older man sighed. 

“Jaylad, I--”

“How many times do I gotta say it, old man? Don’t fuckin’ call me that.”

“I apologize, Jason.” Bruce paused meaningfully, probably looking how to approach some touchy topic that Jason didn’t have the patience for.

“You gonna finally release me or what?”

“You know I can’t do that.” Typical. But if the reason was medical, criminal, or “personal” was still up for debate. 

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” Bruce sighed and stood putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder, which was promptly shrugged off. 

“Please, son. Just cooperate. Let us help you.” 

“You wanna help me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then fucking let me go. I think you’ve done enough.”

“Jason… Please.”

“Just go already.” Bruce stared at him hard before leaving silently. Wow, first time that had worked. 

And just like clockwork Golden Boy came in right after. Probably had a whole queue waiting in the hallway listening in. The emotional support team after mean old Jason ripped poor, understanding Bruce to emotional shreds. What a joke. 

“You know he’s really trying with you. The least you could do is talk with him.”

“Fuck off, Richard. I’m not in the mood.”

“This isn’t healthy, Jason. We’re your family.”

“Are you just that stupid? We haven’t been family in a long time.” And it’s absolutely insane that Jason has to say that. Yeah they didn’t fight in capes as much but the amount of bad blood between them would be enough to cause Atlantis 2: electric boogaloo. 

“You’ll always be my little brother. I love you even if you’re being an idiot. If you don’t want to talk with us, I could always ask Dinah or M’gann to--”

“I don’t need your “help” or your fuckin’ mind readers poking around in my business. Family doesn’t keep family caged.” 

“You’re right. And I-- I’ll talk to Bruce about it. Get you some more leg room.”

“Great, a longer leash. That’s just what I wanted. Thanks, dick.”

“What do you want then? We can’t just let you go! You’re still injured and in case you don’t remember, you killed a lot of people.”

“Then send me to jail already. You’ve got enough evidence, don’t you? What’s the hold up here?”

“We’re worried for you Jason. I’m worried. You’re unstable and you’re just brushing all this off like it’s nothing?! You said it yourself, you still don’t know why you came back, and you don’t care. You won’t tell us how many times you’ve died and I’m half convinced you’re going to get yourself killed the next time you walk out of here. I don’t want to lose you.” 

And Jason was not touching any of that mess with a ten foot pole. No thank you. Since when did the bats start talking and dealing with their emotions?? Jason was allergic to emotional vulnerability and he already felt the hives coming on. 

“You done?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Get out.” The hurt look on Dick’s face almost made Jason waiver but he kept his gaze steady as he was finally, finally alone. Well, mostly.

‘That wasn’t very nice, young man.’ He pointedly ignored Martha and turned on his side away from her, but damn that wasn’t easy on the injuries.

Maybe Jason wasn’t nice. Maybe he wasn’t a good person. Maybe he deserved the pain. Either way, he wouldn’t have to deal with it for much longer. 

Somehow, that knowledge didn’t help.

* * *

Needless to say, the first few days of recovery didn’t go as smoothly as it could have. Saying Jason was impatient to leave would be an understatement. Normally, he’d just escape but he was kept mildly sedated to “ease his recovery” and wasn’t that a load of bullshit. 

Well, the Lazarus Pit was good for one thing and that was advanced healing. He wasn’t tied to the bed anymore but he still couldn’t just fucking leave. For one, the damn security system had updated and he still didn’t know where all the new cameras were yet. He was working on that though. 

And second, more often than not he’d have a watcher of some sort. 

Today’s babysitter was the baby himself. Damian. Now, Jason didn’t have a whole lot against the kid but boy was he fun to rile up and Jason had been cooped up for far too long. Might as well make some entertainment.

“Can you believe this guy, Martha?” 

“Todd. For the last time, you are talking to a painting.” He glanced at the woman in question. The painting was definitely more flattering than the blood splattered woman beside him but murder victim wasn’t a good look on anybody.

“Shows what you know,” he scoffed. “Was Bruce this difficult at his age?” 

‘We weren’t around, dearie. But yes, you could say Bruce was going through his phases.’ Jason immediately imagined an emo pre-teen Bruce with dyed hair saying “it’s not a phase, Alfred.” God please let that be real. Holy fuck, he had to find out more.

“Oh well, now. Do go on, my dear lady.”

“Grayson! Todd is pretending to ignore me again!” Dick has a responding call from a few rooms away probably admonishing him or something similar. Martha just smiled. 

‘You really should try to get along with your brothers. They do love you.’ Jason frowned. Both lies. Not brothers, no lost love here. Mind your business, lady. 

“And done talking with you,” Jason curtely dismissed her, turning from the woman. He slung an arm around the brat, “So, shortstack. You’re an animal kid, right?” Damian immediately shrugged the arm off as violently as he could without provoking Jason’s many, many injuries. 

“Not short. But I manage the pets, yes.”

“Alright, then.” Man, he was such a weird kid. ‘Manage the pets’. God. Shoulda taken the kid with him when he left the league. Maybe then he wouldn’t be such a stuck up twat. “So you know their names?”

“Of course. Who do you think I am?” A lil shit that’s who. 

“What’s the name of the cat then? The orange one I mean, not Alfred.” Damian just blinked and leveled him with a stare that made him aware just how stupid the brat thought he was. 

“We don’t have an orange cat, Todd.” And, well. That couldn’t be true. There definitely had been a cat in the medbay with him. Though he’d been on their lovely cocktail of sedatives built for him, who even knows. Maybe a hallucination. 

“Rightttt... ‘Heard something’ bout a cow though. You didn’t pick up a cow, did you?” 

“Bat-cow,” he grumbled.

“What was that?”

“Her name is Bat-cow.” 

For the first time in years, Jason’s laughter could be through the house. Alfred paused his preparations in the kitchen to listen and smiled. It was good to have everyone home for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any bat: *trying to communicate and have healthy relationships*  
> jason: damn bitch you live like this? ,,,well couldn't be me that's for sure
> 
> ahaha so we're just gonna ignore how long that took me to update <3 college is absolute ass. my deepest condolences to my fellow students right now. and actually just anybody alive rn. this shit mad hard and we all deserve props for still being here. 
> 
> as for the story, well next time we'll get some actual communication (lot of which has already been written bc this chapter took so many drafts, sorry if its a bit disconnected this is a frankenstein result of 3 different drafts). fun fact! alfred the cat is black and white because The Family Aesthetic (TM). orange cat is completely made up but a ghost cat was requested and so pumpkin is here to save the day
> 
> anywayyyssss thank yall sm for the kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, and especially the comments. genuinely did not think anyone of my stories would ever be this popular and i am so flattered. i adore you. you set my soul on fire. stay safe and lmk what you thought or if you have any suggestions! love ya!


	12. Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph pressures Jason! Barbara and Jason bonding! The long awaited report! The start of the aftermath!

After the fifth glance over in this race, Jason paused MarioKart and addressed Stephanie, today’s babysitter. Better to just get it over with. 

“I can tell you wanna ask so just spit it out.” The girl seemed startled but recovered quickly. 

“Why don’t you wanna talk to us?” Well, she didn’t have any tact. Good for her. 

“Excuse me?” The fuck kinda question was that. He barely knew this kid and suddenly she thought she could just delve into his shit?

“I mean, you used to be a robin, right. Your uniform has a bat symbol; you’re still one of us. But it’s almost like you don’t trust us at all,” she ended with a pout. Ugh, teenagers. 

“Gee, almost? Blondie, did you forget that I’m a criminal mastermind? We don’t mesh.” Kid had the audacity to snort at that. 

“Yeah, some criminal mastermind alright. But seriously, you know you’re part of the family right? We really do just wanna help.” Yeah, right. Jason’s eyes shifted over to the picture frame beside the TV stand, with a stark absence of his handsome mug. 

“I’m not so sure I want your help.” Past threats of Arkham flashed through his head. Jason hadn’t forgotten. 

“Oh my god, stop being so broody. That’s Bruce’s job,” she flicked him in the shoulder with a smile. Wow, little harder than necessary. “You’re not alone in this. I barely know you but even I can tell that you’re not okay and I think it’d help if you just stopped and at least gave us a chance.” 

He paused to consider. Really there was an easier option than trying to break out himself. What hadn’t Jason talked himself out of? Chores, death on occasion, hell, even the afterlife. What’s one more tongue tango?

Still, she seemed like a good kid. Her accent was familiar. 

“You’re from the underbelly of Gotham, right?” Street kids took care of one another, maybe he could gain an ally. Or at least make her understand. 

“Yeah, what’s that got ta do with anything?”

“Then you know why I don’t trust the likes of Brucie Wayne.” He unpaused the game and turned back to the TV. Stephanie let out a yelp grabbing back at her controller to resume her proud 4th place. 

“You can’t just ignore this forever.”

“Watch me.” He punctuated that with 3 red shells sending them after her. When they hit, he’s pretty sure she grumbled a few swear words that Alfred would be aghast to hear. Hah, these new kids might just be alright.

* * *

He was in the library the first time he saw Barbara again. Nobody had told him. 

It was jarring. She wheeled in and fuck. Barbara was in a wheelchair. He’d wondered why she wasn’t Batgirl anymore but hadn’t looked into it. Fuck. 

“Hi, Jason. It’s been a while.” She still sounded the same, strong if not a little tired. 

“I--Yeah. It has. Hi.” When she wheeled closer, Jason felt like he was 15 again. His big sister was hurt and he was devastated. “Can I ask?” She looked momentarily delayed before starting. Right, Jason hadn’t been around. Last time they had seen each other they were both--well. 

“Joker got the drop on me. Not too long after you--ah, yeah.” The world fell beneath his feet. Joker. It was always fucking Joker. God fucking damnit. Was killing a kid not enough? The bastard had to go out and disable Barbara? More importantly, how the fuck was he still alive??

“Fucking Joker. Of course, it was.” He sat back and let it sink in. Anger wouldn’t help anything. Not right now. Not with someone who, probably, maybe understood. “Is there any chance of--?” Jason trailed off, glancing at her wheelchair. 

“No. At least, the doctors don’t think so.” As capes, medical diagnoses were overpowered like nothing, really made you start to doubt docs after the fifth time you saw a medical “once-in-a-lifetime miracle” but this seemed different. More permanent. Either way, it was clear Barb had accepted her state. 

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I shoulda been there. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Neither did you.” And that caught him by surprise. 

“What?”

“Ethiopia. You didn’t deserve that, Jason. It wasn’t your fault.” And, yeah, duh. But for some reason it hit Jason harder than he expected it to. Like, he knew, okay? He had just been a kid. Of course it wasn’t his fault. But nobody had ever said that to him before. Not outloud. Not to his face. They normally tried to take the blame themselves, but this was. Huh. 

“Wha--Why are you saying that? I know, okay? It’s all Joker. Always has been. I still don’t get why that piece of shit is still alive,” he ground out. “I mean, fuckers get the death penalty for less, so why can’t he just-- ugh. You get it, right?” If anyone was going to be on his side, it’d be her. Please. Just someone who understands. 

“More than you know,” she said, conflict resolved flashed on her face. “But we can’t just kill people. We don’t-- shouldn’t have that power.” 

“Bullshit.” She just levelled him with a stare that oh he had not missed. Jason met her head on before relenting. Pick your fights, Jason. Pushing it probably wouldn’t help him get out of here anytime soon. Be smart. “Fine, but what about them keeping me prisoner here, huh? Do you think that’s okay?”

“I never said that. But don’t you think they’d be more likely to let you leave if you just opened up to them? What do you have to lose, Jason? I keep watch over Gotham, your absence has left a vacuum.” And everybody knew what happened to power vacuums in Crime Alley. Fuck. That couldn’t be pretty. 

“I’ve been trying to leave,” he grumbled and damn it. There were people counting on his protection and he still had to set up structures for after he--. The sooner he was out, the better. 

“And how well has that been working for you?” Jason let the silence speak for himself. “Exactly. Just talk. It’s hard, believe me I know. I can be there for you if you need me. We can bring in J’ohn or Dinah if you want, but the fact is you’re making this harder for yourself than it needs to be.”

“Fine. Okay, whatever.” He knows. Jason knows this already. He knows and he doesn’t need to be told a thousand times. 

“Good. Now, promise me.” She held out a pinkie finger. (Just like old times.) Jason reluctantly linked. Fuck. No backing out now. 

“I promise.” He swallowed down an uncomfortable lump. Definitely was gonna regret that later. But fuck it. Not like he had much progress on the escape plan. 

“Thank you. I mean it.” Jason had to look away. Too much like how it used to be. “Now, catch me up. What have you been reading?” 

Well, some things didn’t change. Literature had always been his safe place, his escape from reality and he welcomed the abrupt change in conversation. 

As he began to delve into the lore of his latest literature conquest, he could almost pretend he was talking to one of his old friends. Barbara stayed engaged even after Jason got into all the exploits of one goth legend, Mary Shelley. 

It was sweet. Bittersweet, but still sweet.

* * *

“Jason, you called this meeting. You’re ready to talk?” Jason glanced at Barbara who gave a reassuring nod and from the corner of his eye he could see Stephanie give a minute thumbs up. He bristled at the attention, he didn’t need to be babied. 

“Yeah, let’s get this over with. You got the recorder on, old man?” Standard protocol in the cave since before Dickie was in pixie boots. Hopefully that hadn’t changed too. 

“Affirmative. Official Batcave meeting number 11089. Subject matter--” Bruce looked to Jason for guidance. The zombie in question just rolled his eyes.

“My shitty life and shittier deaths.”

“Subject matter: Jason Todd’s life and deaths as told by subject. Begin.” Jason paused to cross his arms and leaned back in his chair. So much build up and for what. Not like he meant to make this a huge deal but damn near the whole batclan was here and on the edge of their seats for his little tall tales. 

“Alright, no dressing it up. I’m sure you’re just dying to hear my side of the story. So, going by that fucking case over there I’m gonna assume you all know some of what happened in Ethiopia. 

“But whatever, square one, Joker beat me with a crowbar and then blew me up, suffocated, and bam, dead. Next thing I know, I wake up in my grave. Had to dig myself out.” They had to have known that already. No way there wouldn’t have been evidence and yet the tensing and sharp intake of breath meant some were surprised? The hell did they think this meeting was gonna be about? Sunshine and lollipops?

Duke raised his hand. Oh my god. Wow. Jason nodded at him. Sure, raising hands and questions for storytime. Why not. Kindergarten type vibes.

“Sorry but how long did it take to uh, revive?” And actually, that was a good question. Let’s see... did Jason know the answer? Hmm. No, not really. 

“Oh, yeah. Uh, maybe half a year? Give or take a few months. Not entirely sure of the date, I was kinda hazy for a while there. Brain damage will do that to ya.” He shrugged before continuing, “Musta attracted some attention because the league picked me up after that, dipped me in the Lazarus Pits and put me through hell.” That whole period of time was spotty in his memory but wait. 

Huh, unlocked a new repressed memory. “Got to babysit the brat a couple times actually. Do you remember that kid?” If it were possible, the brat stiffened further. 

“I recall a guard that got preferential treatment but I was not aware that it was you, Todd.” So that’s a yes. Jason just nodded to himself and waved it off. 

“Yeah, figures. Anyways, after a while, I broke out, came back to Gotham for my original stint. You know that story, sorry about the car bomb by the way.” Not really, but it’s the gesture that counts. “Then I formed the Outsiders for a time. We’re on break right now, but oh, you remember that whole alien invasion a while back? The ones with the uh, life force sucking thing?”

“The vivacian invasion. You were there?” Dick interjected. Well, that was just cold. Of course he was. It’s not like he wanted humanity to be wiped out.

“Almost everyone was, Dickhead. But yeah, anyways. I got hit by one of their life sucker shit and I’m pretty sure I died? Woke up a few days later still decomposing.” Now that got a few people to pale. Jason pushed on. Yeah his life wasn’t pretty, deal with it. “Didn’t think much of it at the time. But not much later, the pill incident last summer? Yeah, I caused that. Some gang drug dealing shit I was dealing with. Anyways, I was unlucky enough to overdose on a “special bottle.” Died again.” Ugh, his back hurt just thinking about that death. That bathtub had not been kind on his spine. 

“Has this been dealt with?” Good old paranoid Batsy. 

“Of course. Who do you take me for?” B just nodded and Jason backed down. No need to be aggressive just yet. “Uh, let’s see, what’s next. Right, so I was investigating Black Mask’s activity in the pier by downtown, you know the one. Ended up having to take a dive. It didn’t go well. Let’s just say drowning isn’t fun.” Somehow the atmosphere got even heavier. Geez, they weren’t even to the bad shit yet. In an effort to lighten the mood he added, “at least, the ghosts started showing up after that one.”

“I’m sorry what?” Ah, poor Duke. Looked absolutely flabbergasted and now that Jason glanced around everyone held a similar expression. Huh. This could not be new information.

“What?” Jason shot back. They should not be this surprised. Magic was a daily occurrence, aliens were very real, so why not ghosts?

“You can see ghosts?” Bruce intoned in a way that seemed nonjudgemental but any bat worth their salt could read the skepticism implied. 

“Look, I know how that sounds but I’m not crazy. Perks of being a frequent customer at Death’s door.”

“Ghosts are real?” Damian sounded so small just then. Right, kid had killed a lot of people. Jason spared a small grimace. Probably wouldn’t be good to mention the figures in the corners. Maybe changing the topic would help.

“Yeah. Uh, so is Death and the Afterlife. In case you ever wanted to know.” Wow, yikes. That did not help. Jason might’ve just caused a few existential crises. Only Cass seemed unaffected, nodding sagely to herself. Dick coughed into his hand and began,

“Maybe let’s save the theological discussion for later.” Barbara jumped on it and redirected back to point. 

“Good point. Jason what happened after your, ah, drowning?” He could do without the constant wincing from everyone but whatever. He thought back and oh. Well, this would be embarrassing.

“Okay, you’re gonna laugh. So, pretty soon after I, uh, apparently, might have developed a peanut allergy? You’ll never guess how I found out.” Jason was trying so hard to make this light but god this energy was suffocating. Cass made a gesture at her throat and Jason lit up. “Bingo. PB&J sammie and I was down for the count.” He rubbed the back of his head and tried to play it off but ah, what an embarrassing death. Jason would never manage to live it down, ha. 

“Have you notified Alfred of your allergy? Are your files updated?” Of course, Bruce would pick on the one thing to take his efforts to keep this light right back in the trash. Goddamn it.

“I, uh. No, I hadn’t thought of that.” He felt like a little kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Fuck. Bruce only nodded and wrote it down. 

“I’ll update your file.”

“I already got it, B,” Tim interjected. Brat had his laptop out even now. Bruce nodded in thanks. How awkward, Jason was right there. 

“Can I get back to my report?” At the silence, Jason continued, “So, after that death. I did that whole shebang with Joker and you, Batman.” At his mention, the man stiffened and caught his breath. From his peripherals he could see the other members at the table pique in interest. Tim stopped typing and narrowed his eyes.

“What thing?”

“You were on a mission with the team. It was of a personal nature,” Bruce put carefully. Jason snorted.

“Yeah, “personal”. Basically I tried to get Bruce to kill Joker. Surprise: he didn’t. But guess who died instead.” Bruce and Dick both sharply turned to him.

“You died?” And Bruce had no right to sound that lost. 

“But we didn’t find a body,” Dick started. Jason just levelled him with a deadpan.

“Blame the ghost shit, birdboy.”

“What-- What was the cause of death?” And that got everyone to stare at Bruce, who wouldn’t tear his eyes off Jason. Made his fucking skin crawl acting like he didn’t know. 

“Take a wild fuckin’ guess.” What Bruce really wanted to know is if he broke his precious rule. If he was liable. Not a single damn given about poor old Hoodie.

“Jason, I--”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jason couldn’t look at him but everyone else seemed to be doing double takes between the two of them, probably putting together the pieces that Bruce refused to. It wasn’t a pretty picture.

“Jason, what happened?” Barbara settled him with a calm hand on his shoulder. They needed to get to the bottom of this. If what Jason was implying was true, then… then. They had to know. 

“You’ll never believe it but a batarang to the neck and being left in an exploding building does wonders for one’s health.” All the evidence they needed was right there, a pale scar stark on his jugular.

Now, Jason doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bruce that pale, that stiff, that broken. It’s certainly a satisfying sight to see.

“Bruce. What.” Barbara is the first to speak up. But Jason isn’t done yet. They wanted him to talk? Fine. He’ll fucking talk.

“Then I come to find out that you managed to fucking save the Joker.” All their eyes are on Jason. His anger has always been loud, explosive, buring. Today it is cold, harsh,and so fucking bitter after months of letting it fester. They don’t recognize him; it feels good. “I died again. By your hand. And you, you saved the Joker. Ha! So much for your fucking golden rule, Batman,” Jason spits out. He could stop. Oh, he really should. But he can’t bring himself to. “I mean, what the fuck. How could you do that to me?” That came out a bit more hoarse than he’d like but whatever.

“Jason, please--” the asshole starts. Jason holds up a hand. 

“I don’t want your damn excuses or half-assed apologies, Bruce. Actually, just shut up for once. This isn’t about you and your guilt complex. I wanna get this over with.” Jason paused to collect himself and despite the heavy atmosphere, they seemed to respect his wish to carry on. He sighed heavily and leaned back, taking on a detached tone, “After that, the Ra’s men caught and killed me. I assume they’ve been surveilling my revivals since then. Went to go and see Nightwing in Bludhaven. Got caught up in a warehouse and wouldn’t ya know it, dead again. Thanks for the support, Dickie.”

“What? I came back for you and you were gone. I thought you escaped!” Jason side-eyed him and wow. Dick really thought he was telling the truth, though there was a rather larger portion of guilt on his face. Hmm. Even if it was true, it’s not like anything changed.

“Well, I didn’t. They dumped my body.” Dick looked like he wanted to keep pressing the issue, but Jason just felt tired. They were almost at the end of his life story. “Anyways, I saw you all when I broke into Lexcorp Labs. Good times. Then I was shot, Dick and Timmers saw the aftermath of that death. And finally, captured by Ra’s and you know the rest, yadda yadda,” he gestured with his hand. “Are we done now?” The recorder was still running so apparently not. Joy. 

In the wake of all those revelations, the cave was majorly silent. Tim had resumed typing, likely researching the legitimacy of his story. Jason didn’t really care, it was all true for once. 

Well, even if they weren’t, Jason was done. He deserved a nap after this shit. Felt fucking exhausted.

“Good talk.” He stood up, slapping the back of his chair twice as he made his way out of the cave.

* * *

The silence in the cave after Jason left was deafening. Bruce leaned into his folded hands while Dick rubbed at the tension between his eyes.

“Bruce, is it true?” Barbara asked softly, finally breaking the quiet.

“I,” Bruce sighed, “I have no reason to believe it isn’t.” He sounded weak. It was unnerving. Stephanie cut in, sharp and accusing,

“That’s not what she asked.”

“What reason would Jason have to lie?” Duke chimed in. Cass nodded in agreement. 

“Body tells the truth. I saw no lie.” 

“For what it’s worth, I haven’t found anything to contradict his story so far,” came from behind Tim’s laptop.

“I’ll help verify it tonight, Tim.” He nodded in thanks at Barbara but kept scanning the screen. 

“And if it’s true? Damn it, Jason just said Bruce and I left him to die! Where the fuck do we go from here? It’s been months. I don’t-- I don’t know what to do.” Dick normally had a cool head but a tight panic seeped into his voice. Bruce could sympathize with his oldest son. 

“We’ll figure it out. Together, as a family.” And god, Barb did not get paid enough for this. With B still in shock, Dick at the edge of hyperventilating, Barbara was the oldest and most responsible. Great. She sighed as the clock chimed seven. “But not today. I think that’s enough for one night. Kids, it’s a school night. Go on up.” She stared down the five of them as they made their way back up, ensuring that none of them were left to eavesdrop.

She clicked off the recorder. 

Now the adults could talk.

* * *

Jason slept through breakfast the next morning. He found that he didn’t want to get up. No hunger and absolutely no desire to see anybody else who lived in this goddamn house. 

That ghost cat, Pumpkin came by and laid with him for a while. They both lazed in the sunbeams and a mess of covers. 

After a period of time that could have been anywhere between thirty minutes and four hours, a clanking of plates that could only be Alfred came a-chinking. Jason watched and listened in anticipation as the shadow and clanking came to a stop outside his door. It settled down and Jason let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding as the shadow moved away. 

He’d go to get it, just not right now. Pumpkin snuggled into his chest and Jason drifted off into slumber once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruce: well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my actions
> 
> howdy howdy. hope you enjoyed this chapter! thanks for reading and please drop some spare serotonin! all feedback is appreciated <3 for once i felt okay on a chapter before posting it but lmk what you thought! still getting the hang of other batfam characters and the report mechanism is heavily influenced by tma type reports and not dc canon at all but hey, artistic license. who cares yall waited long enough the plot will advance! no time for details! we're gonna have some fun w retraumatization real soon
> 
> wow, a chapter just 2 weeks after my last one? its almost like when i first started this lmao. i'll try not to let you all wait so long again but school is gonna be tough this semester! im stressed just thinking abt it ngl. everyone stay strong! drink water! i believe in you!


End file.
